Lost Souls Found
by Shanti.Writes
Summary: COMPLETE! SS/OFC Romance,Drama, HurtComfort. After OotP, Voldemort active, Snape immersed in DE & OotP Spy role, researcher from Ministry contacts DD. Snarky Snape, indepth plot. Rated for romantic content and DE violence, Spoilers through OotP only.
1. Chapter 1: Plans and Counter Plans

This is a fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JK Rowling. All her characters, obviously, are hers. All original characters are mine. No Pecuniary Rewards. No Spoilers to Half-Blood Prince, as this story and the prologue were written (and just barely completed) before that book was released. There are spoilers for all other JKR books.

**Utterly Alternate Universe to Half-Blood Prince. **

There is a prologue to this story entitled Lost Souls, which can also be found on this archive. It is not necessary to read the prologue to understand and enjoy this story, but it does provide a richer background of the characters.

Please allow me a long Author's Note here. I promise not to make a habit of it, but I wish to give credit where it is due. Many, many people have assisted me along the way with this story, and I would like to take a moment to thank them. It has been a work in progress for almost two years.

I must credit Annii Frazier with first introducing me to the intricacies of Snape's character, as she portrayed him on the first online roleplaying game I joined. Many years and many other Snape-portrayals and fansite lurkings later, I have a much broader view of his character than I would have gleaned on my own. My Severus Snape, in this story, is my own interpretation, but he is highly coloured by the information I have gathered over the years from many sources.

A very humble thank-you to Elaine, my first-ever Beta, and who has now beta'd every chapter, numerous times. Elaine is also the reason this story is complete. I had a personal tragedy in my life near the mid-point of its 'birth', and very nearly found myself unable to continue. Elaine's gentle support and never-ceasing encouragement allowed me to carry on.

Padfoot the Marauder also beta'd many chapters in the middle of the story. Kirasha, aka JL, stepped in to help beta the end chapters when I was trying to hurry and finish the story before the release of Half-Blood Prince, and also portrays Snape on my website. She has helped my 'internal Severus' grow as well.

Surgical Steel has helped me make the Texas-native character in this story true to Texas style. Kirasha helped me portray the Irish dialect you will see very briefly toward the end. Lady Claire assisted me with the necessary German translations and cultural issues. The Live Journal community, "hpbritglish" has been a fantastic resource throughout the story.

Most recently, Vaughn and JackieJLH, who have helped me to place the finishing touches on the story, particularly my own mechanics, in preparation for submission to Sycophant Hex.

Thanks also to Vaughn and WitchEcho for Brit-Picking for me.

Lastly, thank you to my reviewers at FFN and AFF who kindly pointed out errors and roughness when this was my first-ever, unbeta'd attempt at public writing. That was, indeed, very scary. I'm glad to say that I have improved tremendously since then, though there is always room for more.

Like most fanfic authors, I adore comments, constructive criticism, and reviews of any sort.

My final note, then, is a dedication.

I would like to dedicate this entire story to my beautiful niece, Meghan Marie, who was killed by a drunk driver on December 28, 2004. She was nineteen years old. Katrina, whom you will meet during the course of the story, was heavily patterned after my precious Meghan, and was all the more bittersweet to write after Meggie was gone.

I love you, Meghan. You are sorely missed.

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**Lost Souls Found**

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Chapter 1: Plans and Counter plans

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Voldemort was back. Harry Potter had been insisting that for the past year, but no one had really believed it. His interview printed in March, though, gave Rowena pause. She had preferred to believe Dumbledore over Fudge all along. If Dumbledore was wrong to trust Potter, then he could be wrong in his trust of others, too.

Rowena was terribly vested in believing Dumbledore's trust couldn't be misplaced.

It didn't really seem to affect her personally one way or the other, though. She didn't know Potter herself, hadn't seen Dumbledore since she finished school, and worked in the Research and Development Lab at the Ministry. She had a strong financial incentive to at least pay lip service to Fudge's side of the story.

But then the Death Eaters battled in the very heart of the Ministry.

It was June of 1996. A huge battle had recently occurred within the depths of the Ministry itself. Sirius Black, somehow fighting against the Death Eaters rather than with them, had been killed. The Wizarding world was in shock, fear and uproar.

Rowena Lupin was spending longer and longer hours in her research lab. Minister Fudge had finally acknowledged the return of the Dark Lord, and suddenly the Aurors had been authorised to bring newly discovered Dark spells to her department to begin immediate research on the counter spells. Rowena had moved up the ranks of authority over her years there, and was now in charge of the Combative Spells Division, so these spells came directly to her.

She had grown from a slight girl to a slight woman, standing only three inches above five feet in height. She still maintained her honey-brown hair—her one concession to feminine vanity—very, very long and spent a good deal of time and money keeping it in fine, healthy condition. It was a mostly wasted vanity, as she primarily wore it in one long plait, which hung to her waist as she worked. Her lab robes were of rich, dark hues, to offset her mousy colouring, but designed to be functional, not flattering, with numerous pockets for notes and quills.

She was often the last person to leave the lab, being one of the few with no family or outside commitments. Even her closest friend, Elizabeth, was recently married, and so, while she maintained the friendship, she saw much less of her than before.

When the last person aside from herself left the lab, she made a point of sealing it against the entrance of anyone else. She had never forgotten Warrington's assault, and liked to believe herself to be suspicious and cautious to a degree that might have suited Alastor Moody.

It had been years since she had practiced any useful combative techniques. It was one thing to research spells and their effects, creating new ones and teaching them to those who would use them, deep in the safety of her own lab. It was another thing entirely to hone the reflexes and skills needed to actually use those spells in practise.

But now, seeing the curses and hexes the Aurors had been up against for the past year, she was completely put out with herself. She could have offered Dumbledore aid and been countering these effects months ago! She was almost the only one who had dabbled in any sort of Muggle sciences, and she was the only one who had taken the combination of maths, quantum physics, and magic to the levels she had achieved. In short order, she had countered many of the new spells sent to her, and the Aurors were already enjoying greater success in their work.

However, Rowena used to work in the Security Wards, Concealments and Alarms Division of the department, just prior to her promotion to Combative Spells. Now that another Azkaban breakout seemed certain, the Ministry had put a priority on its defence. She had been 'pulled' from Combative research and put back in Security, and set the task to strengthen the shields and protections of Azkaban. No one doubted that Voldemort would again attempt the release of his followers; it was only a matter of when.

This was the project which currently held her attention. Mozart played softly in the background as she sat at the large worktable. Rolls and rolls of parchment surrounded her, covered in fiendishly complex equations and diagrams.

Fudge was tying her hands more often than not. He wouldn't let her continue her research on her projects for the Combative Division, even though she insisted she had time enough for both. It wasn't like she had a 'life', anyway. What else did she have to do with her time?

With the stubborn self-deception of any professional politician, Fudge always cancelled any research that he believed to be too 'dangerous'. She felt stifled and frustrated. Her work could be so much more beneficial, if he wasn't such a bureaucrat!

In a moment of frustration, she drew out a new blank parchment and penned a letter.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I am Rowena Lupin. I finished my Hogwarts education in 1982. I am currently in R&D at the Ministry of Magic. I would like to assure you of my support in the current war, and offer you any assistance you may deem valuable. My area of expertise is Combative and Dark magic counter-spell research. I do not feel my skills are being used to best advantage at present._

_I do, however, need to maintain my job, for obvious pecuniary reasons. It would be best for me if the Ministry did not know I had offered my assistance. Any work I might do for you would need to remain confidential. _

_Having said that, I would genuinely like to be helpful should you have any need of my particular talents, such as they are._

_Sincerely,_

_Rowena Lupin_

She quickly sealed the scroll, gathered her belongings, and Apparated to the door of her flat. Once inside, she sent the letter with her tawny owl, and promptly forgot about it.

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix still met in the rather dark and crowded basement kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius had left the property to Harry, and Harry in turn had left it in control of Dumbledore and the Order. Sirius' death was still horribly recent, and a dark pall hung over them all.

There was currently a very noisy discussion going on around the enormous, scrubbed wooden table.

"We simply have to find a way to strengthen the wards of the school," Molly Weasley's anxious voice said. "You know that now that he couldn't get the Prophecy, he'll begin direct attempts on Harry's life. All the children will be in danger!"

"Yes, Molly," came the gruff but patient voice of Alastor Moody, "but we have to make sure Azkaban is strengthened first—he will try to free his Death Eaters before he goes after the school."

Dumbledore cut in, apparently tired of the circuitous discussion, "Please, let us not argue over particulars until we have more information. Severus should be here any moment. Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

"Speaking of your pet sneak, Albus," growled Moody, turning both his normal eye and his electric blue one to focus on his friend's tired face. "You don't think you're placing too much trust in the boy, do you?"

To Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, anyone more than twenty years his junior was a 'boy'. He continued, "I know he's a damn good Occlumens—too damn good for my liking—but when Voldemort finally breaks him, we're all at risk. Or worse, if he gets outed by someone else… and that's assuming he's really on our side to begin with. It's a dangerous game you're playing, with a dangerous man, Albus. And I don't mean Voldemort in that."

"I am so pleased with your vote of confidence, Moody," came the silky soft baritone of Severus Snape from just behind him. He had entered the room unnoticed amidst the squabbling.

"I am also glad you are aware of just how dangerous I can be," he continued, the threat plain in his words.

Dumbledore cut across the exchange, his stern tone ending all argument, at least for the moment. "Severus, enough. Alastor, you as well. My trust in you both is absolute, and not the least misplaced. Now, Severus, I am glad you are here, what can you tell us?"

Severus sat in a vacant chair and surveyed those present. He sighed and began his report, his voice deep and firm, but with none of its usual sarcasm.

"Mrs Weasley and Moody are both correct. He wishes to free his Death Eaters, and then attack the school. However, he is attempting to do both with subtlety, not wanting to tip his hand. The number of Death Eaters in Azkaban slows his plans considerably. Malfoy, though, will likely be free soon due to bribes and the like.

"Apparently the Ministry has its Research and Development lab working on the Azkaban wards already. The Dark Lord has ordered several different methods to try to gain access to this research, or to stop it entirely before its completion.

"Narcissa Malfoy is currently trying to distract the scientist involved by offering private research projects, to be paid at an exorbitant rate. This has not been successful. The researcher seems above bribery, or they have not found her price.

"Others have been set the task to simply steal the research in progress. They are finding this difficult, as the woman who heads the project seems to have the lab heavily warded, and no one has been able to penetrate it."

He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the table as he spoke.

"The scientist in question is a rather young woman, unmarried and living alone. His most recent plan in regards to this research is to send Death Eaters covertly to attempt to interest her romantically, if you can imagine, to try to obtain information that way. So far this has also been unsuccessful. The woman does not seem interested in _dating_."

He snorted in disgust at the very idea, and continued.

"If he cannot obtain the research with subtlety, the next step will be to use the Imperious Curse on her, though there are doubts whether it would work. Her usual department focuses on counter curses and defensive magics, so it is expected that she would have some ability to throw off that curse.

"The final options are torture and death, of course. He wishes his supporters out of Azkaban by Christmas at the latest, so we have some time. The woman is in no immediate danger, though she bears watching.

"It is in our best interest to keep her as safe as possible, and see to it that she is able to complete her research. The longer the Death Eaters are imprisoned, and the more of them that stay that way, the better, obviously."

Albus interrupted him then, "Who is the scientist, Severus? Do you have a name?"

"Rowena Lupin," he stated calmly, though he looked up at Remus Lupin's harsh intake of breath. "She's your cousin or something, is she not, Lupin? I seem to remember her a bit from school. Ravenclaw House, if I recall?"

Remus leaned back heavily in his chair, his face pale. He buried his face in his hands, and his voice was thick with emotion. "No, she's not my cousin—she's my sister. I made her agree to tell everyone we were only distantly related, in case anyone ever found out I was a werewolf. She never forgave me for pushing her away like that, among other things. I've barely spoken with her in almost twenty years."

Severus sneered at him, and the sarcasm was thick in his voice as he said, "Ah, how very noble. This is another example of 'love', is it? How very glad I am that I have never been so afflicted. I assume, then, she does not share your rather unique condition?"

Remus glared across the table at him. "No, she does not. She didn't even know I was a werewolf until her third year at Hogwarts. And yes, I love her. If anything happens to her that you could have prevented, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth!"

"Gentlemen, please!" Albus' voice cut through the discussion like a sledgehammer. "Remus, nothing is going to happen to Rowena. We know the risk now; we will be watching her. We will do what is necessary to keep her safe. I will not have Order members threatening each other and arguing like this. We must stand together and trust one another."

"Now, Severus, Please continue. What does Voldemort intend to do after he has his Death Eaters free?"

Severus continued to glare at Remus, but his eyes were thoughtful. At last he replied, "To use similar methods and means to break through the wards of Hogwarts. If he can drop the Anti-Apparation wards, they will simply Apparate inside and begin full-fledged slaughter. Children of Death Eater parents are already being trained in Cruciatus and the Killing Curses, and have been provided with Death Eater hoods and cloaks. If the Dark Lord gets the shields down, it will be a massacre."

Severus kept his implacable gaze focused nowhere but at the table in front of him. He felt the fear and distrust from the people around him as though it was he, himself, who would order the killing of children. Only Albus truly trusted him, and even that was a small comfort. Albus trusted everyone!

"He has also set Pettigrew to spy on the school," he continued. "No doubt at least part of his orders includes spying on me. The Dark Lord never trusts anyone. In his rat form, Pettigrew will be very difficult to detect and keep off the property. The grounds must never be considered secure from the Dark Lord's spies. Not only Pettigrew, but the student relatives of Death Eaters are rich sources of information to him," Severus finished at last.

"All right then, now we know. Severus, you must keep us informed of any changes. Yours remains the most dangerous position, my friend, and I would not have you risk your life needlessly. Do what you need to do. When the students return to school, you will have to be extra vigilant in your actions. We all understand what that means and bear you no ill will."

Severus snorted with a lift of his chin, still not meeting anyone's eyes. Of course they bore him 'no ill will' when he had to maintain his evil-bastard persona to the hilt. After all, it fit perfectly with their true opinion of him, and, obviously, the role suited him well.

Albus continued as though he had not been interrupted, but looked at Severus with grave concern. "Molly, Arthur, I leave it to you and the Aurors to spread word among the parents who support us. If the time comes that an attack is imminent, we will need every parent who is available to come to the school and aid in evacuation of the students.

"Aurors, you will need to redouble your efforts to capture the Death Eaters who are at large. And, of course, everyone should continue to keep eyes and ears open for any who might support us. The more we can get actively involved, the better off we will be. I think that is all we can discuss at the moment." Albus was matter-of-fact in his tone and directions, but his face was grim and tired.

"One more thing--I would like to arrange a small Memorial service for Sirius, to be conducted on the Hogwarts grounds next Saturday. Minerva and Tonks, would you begin the arrangements? Alastor, I will need you to arrange to transport Harry. We need a chance to grieve together, even in the midst of all this."

Murmurs of assent followed this, as well as many wiped eyes and blown noses.

"Remus, Severus, if you will please stay a moment," said Dumbledore as the room slowly emptied.

When everyone else had left, Dumbledore turned to Remus. "We need a viable option to observe and protect your sister without her becoming suspicious. It happens that she sent me a letter just a few days ago, offering her support, so this gives us an excuse to contact her.

"We need her to function as normally as possible for the time being. I wish to offer her use of Hogwarts lab space to use in her free time, in exchange for help in strengthening the Hogwarts wards. This will be our ostensible reason for taking her up on her offer of assistance. It will also give us the ability to keep a closer eye on her.

"The problem is who to send to speak with her on the matter. I need to know whom she trusts enough to approach her on this without arousing her suspicions. I cannot go myself—to deal with this directly would immediately alert her to the severity of the situation. I also do not want to send any of our Order members who work at the Ministry, as we must not risk any of their positions.

"I would ask you to go, Remus, but I know of the rift between you. I would like your suggestion as to whom to send?"

Remus sighed, and then scowled across the table at Severus. "Him," was all he managed to say, with a nod at the darker man.

Severus' brow rose at this in surprise. "Excuse me? She doesn't know me from Merlin."

Remus shook his head and looked pleadingly a moment at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled softly and said, "I think you had best explain, Remus. Her life is in danger; this is not the time for childhood secrets."

Remus ran his hand through his hair and looked at Snape with an ugly sneer ... a sneer which would have been far more at home on Snape's own face. His words were bitterly spoken. "Rowena's main disagreement with me these past twenty years was my supposed _mistreatment_ of _you_. Or what she deemed my 'selectively performed' Prefect duties.

"She had what I can only describe as a 'crush' on you when we were in school. I have no idea if she still fancies you. One could only hope that after nearly twenty years she would develop some sense! But I do know she'd be far more likely to speak to you than to me.

"And I know if you use this information against her or to hurt her, you will answer to me," he finished, his voice a threatening growl.

Snape had listened to this in astonished disbelief, and now it was his turn to sneer angrily. "I don't know what you're playing at, Lupin, but I won't have it. Your friends made fool of me enough in school; I won't allow it now as an adult. You can't seriously expect me to believe that drivel? Perhaps you have deceived Albus, but you can count me out at once. The girl is in danger, I admit. You figure out how to keep her safe, and leave me out of it."

"Severus," Albus broke in calmly, "what Remus says is true. For whatever reason, you were the object of Rowena's teenaged fancy. I doubt she remains infatuated, but I am certain she was once. It is also true that she would no more consent to see Remus than Voldemort himself.

"I think this might actually be a viable option, for you to be the one to make the initial contact. It would also answer your other commitment to Voldemort. You could claim to him that you volunteered for the job so as to be closer to her.

"For now just go, meet her, and speak with her on my behalf. We will need to arrange for discreet guardianship of her, much as we have done with Harry, though not to that extent of course. I suspect I will have to call on your assistance in that regard as well."

The Headmaster smiled benignly at him over folded hands, as though it was a settled thing. Severus, however, had other ideas. It was no great stretch to suspect Albus intended this 'solution' all along, and merely wanted to give the impression of discussion and choice. The man was a master of subtle manipulations—a trait Severus generally admired greatly—when it was not being used on _him_.

"You expect me to spend the summer minding a _Lupin_? Do you know what you are asking?" he asked, irritably.

"No, I expect you to aid the Order when possible in protecting a valuable scientist who is unaware that she is in danger. I would like her to remain unaware of the danger for a while, for her own peace of mind. In her lab, at Hogwarts or in her own home she is safe enough. But elsewhere, we will have need of observing her. You seem to be the best choice to make the initial contact at least. Do you have a better option, Severus?" His voice was still calm, but his eyes belied a twinkling of amusement.

Severus had never refused a request from Albus. Not since Albus helped and trusted him seventeen years ago, when he wanted to leave the Death Eaters. If he could be said to have true respect, trust or affection for anyone, it was Albus Dumbledore.

Still, he was on the verge of refusal this time. There was something more disturbing about this request than any assignment that he had received, from either side of his dual role.

He remembered her, vaguely. The image in his recollection was a slight, mousy girl with long plaits and a sharp tongue, superimposed with the shy, introverted student she had been during his first year of teaching.

Somehow the idea that she had had a 'crush' on him was unsettling. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was a horrible joke Lupin was playing at his expense, as a way to honour and remember the dearly departed Sirius.

However, he could not find a rational argument against Dumbledore's request. Scowling darkly, at last, he nodded. "Very well. I will do what I can."

Albus clapped his hands in delight. "Of course you will, Severus. Now, I need to get back to school. Remus? I believe you are on guard tonight at Privet Drive?"

Remus had scowled at Severus the whole time they were talking, but now stood and nodded. "She's my sister, Severus. If you need anything—if she needs anything... you tell me, all right?"

"I believe the reason I have been assigned this rather distasteful task is because she doesn't want anything from her doting big-brother, is it not? I am certain I can keep the girl safe without your assistance. Good day, Lupin." And with that, and the loud 'crack' of Apparation, he was gone.

Dumbledore, however, was still beaming happily. He clapped Remus on the shoulder and winked. "If Rowena is at all the fine young woman she promised to grow into, I think Severus is in for a bit of a rude awakening, don't you?"


	2. Chapter 2: Reacquainting

This is a fanfiction based in JKR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a _lot_ of help with this story!

**Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.**

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Chapter 2: Reacquainting

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The stillness of the empty Ministry corridor was shattered by a loud sound, like the crackle of electricity. It was then immediately followed by a sharp, masculine grunt of discomfort. This unexpected disturbance startled Rowena out of her thoughts. She was working late, alone in her lab again, and so had warded the open doorway. Looking up to see who had run into her magical seal, she could barely contain her surprise.

A tall, slender man with shoulder-length, ebony hair stood in the corridor just outside the door.

Severus Snape!

He was rubbing his shoulder where it had contacted the field, scowling angrily at the seemingly empty space. Producing his wand, he prodded the invisible barrier inquisitively.

"Fascinating. Your own creation?" he asked coolly, barely glancing in her direction.

Her heart was pounding, and for a moment she was unable to speak; all she could do was nod dumbly and stare in shock.

How could it be that he was here? It was as though he had stepped out of a thousand wild dreams and imaginings. Was he real, or had her ridiculous fantasies finally taken her completely around the twist?

He seemed even taller than the last time she had seen him, and there were lines on his face that had not been there before. Otherwise, he had changed very little.

Rowena knew his visage almost as well as her own… perhaps better. The face was sharp and angular, with a distinctive, prominent nose, expressive mouth, and black, bottomless eyes. Those eyes had always seemed capable of peering into her very soul. The scowl was equally familiar, as was the sneering silk of his baritone voice. All of it precisely the same as it had been, as though she had just gazed at him wistfully for the final time, right before leaving Hogwarts on her last day as a student.

Forcibly rousing herself from her immobility, she went to the door with her own wand and cancelled the field. She attempted to calm her mind with disused Occlumency discipline. The effort was marginally successful, though she could not calm her racing heart.

"Yes, I always seal the lab when I'm here alone," Rowena said, and was pleased that her voice sounded normal, or at least normal i _enough /i _ to someone who had not heard it in twenty years.

Severus stepped inside, still examining the door, and then looked at the shoulder of his robes as though checking for burn or scorch marks.

"It seems effective, though apparently harmless. You might try something stronger for more security—and be less willing to open it for strangers," he said somewhat distractedly.

She didn't bother to try and contradict him. To her, he was no stranger.

He looked at her then, with silent appraisal. She did not appear any taller than his vague recollections, which meant that he towered more than a head above her in height. Her thin stature still gave the appearance that a strong wind would waft her away. Yet she had gentle, feminine curves, modestly concealed beneath robes which were neat and functional. Wide brown eyes seemed to nearly overwhelm her heart-shaped face, but they met his gaze unflinchingly. She was tolerable, in a nondescript, earthy sort of way.

He experienced an odd sort of lurching sensation in his chest when their eyes met, but it passed quickly, and he dismissed it as nothing. Moving to the center of the room, he casually leaned one hip against her worktable. In haughty silence, he glanced about the place.

The room itself was enormous, but had been honeycombed with cubicle dividers along both its long walls, leaving a narrow, open space down the center. Numerous long, spell-scarred wooden tables lined this area. Clearly, many different researchers shared the communal space and supplies. No doubt working late allowed her more freedom of access to limited facilities, and more privacy in her work.

"I have been sent by Albus Dumbledore," he said at last, returning his sharp gaze to her. "Apparently you offered him assistance, which he wishes to accept. He seems to think that some of your more _delicate_ research ought not to be conducted here, due to Ministry politics. You probably know more of that than I do.

"The Headmaster wishes to offer you the use of research space at Hogwarts in exchange for your assistance in strengthening the school's defenses, when you have time. He also wishes you to have an escort whenever you travel to and from Hogwarts, in case the Ministry should choose to make things unpleasant for you."

He presented this with a rather bored air, and then turned his powers of observation to her personal work area. Aside from the papers on the table where she had just been sitting, it was neat and orderly. Her cubicle walls were spattered with numerous photos, though she deftly stepped in front of him when he made a move to look closer.

"Why did the Headmaster send you?" she asked, trying to draw his attention to herself, rather than those rather incriminating pictures around her station. It wouldn't do for him to recognise his own image in many of them.

He looked down at her and raised an expressive eyebrow.

"I am Professor Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts. You may recall that I attended school at the same time as your _brother,_" he said, and then watched her closely for her reaction.

She paled instantly, and drew in a sharp hiss of breath. But her eyes grew dark and murky, and she seemed to grow in size with her anger.

"Who told you? Remus John Lupin is no brother to me—by his own insistence. Who sent you? What's this really about? I don't know why you would do Remus' bidding, but I assure you that if this is his—or your—idea of a joke I don't find it the least bit funny. I should warn you, I can be quite creative in my retaliations. I learnt from watching the master, after all."

Smirking, he watched her rant as he casually seated himself in a nearby chair, pulling it up to her workstation. The scattered parchment seemed to invite perusal, and so he glanced over some of the nearer pages while she carried on. He was finding himself highly amused by her diatribe, which seemed to only enrage her further.

"The master of retaliations?" he asked sardonically. "I was not aware that I had earned such a title. I will have to add it to my others. I assure you I am not here on Lupin's bidding. You sent your little note to Albus, and he decided it needed prompt attention. It seems only your dear brother or myself were available for the task.

"I refused, of course. I have far more pressing things to be doing than shuttling a scientist from lab to lab, regardless of the skill of said scientist. Quite impressive, by the way," he said, as he waved some of her notes in her direction. She snatched them angrily from his hands, and he smirked again.

"However, it was then that Lupin insisted it would be quite impossible for him to do the task, even though there little else he can do to be of use. When pressed for his reasons, he came clean as to your relationship.

"It is quite remarkable to me, the number of secrets and lies this most 'honest' of the Fabulous Four seems to have hidden from that rather distasteful period of his life," he said with a sneer, before returning to the topic at hand.

"He seemed to think you would not agree to speak with him—"

She interrupted, "He was right!'

"Well, then, here we are," he said, spreading his long-fingered hands to sweep the space in front of him in emphasis. "I believe that you will think better of your brother's company after some experience with mine."

"I highly doubt it. I would rather face honest sarcasm than Remus' brand of friendly deceit," she replied, stiffly. It was infuriating how, even though he was sitting and she standing, he could still make her feel that he was looking down on her.

His brows raised in surprise as he replied in his smoothest, silkiest voice, "Do not assume honesty from _me_, Miss Lupin. That would be a grave error on your part. I am a Slytherin, after all. I hold no loyalty but to myself. Consider it a bit of friendly advice."

She actually smiled at him then, which briefly transformed her seemingly ordinary appearance into something surprisingly pretty. He betrayed no outward change of emotion, but he again felt struck forcibly by… _something_—and again savagely suppressed the sensation.

"Why, Professor Snape, do you realise that's the second bit of 'friendly advice' you've bestowed upon me in my lifetime?" she asked with a teasing lilt in her voice. "The other was on my first train ride to Hogwarts. You should be more selective in doling out your gems. It might be enough to go to a girl's head.

"You'll have to forgive me, however, if I choose to ignore this bit. I don't base my trust in a person on what House they belonged to at school."

He gazed at her implacably for a moment, carefully concealing his surprise that she would remember that conversation on the train all those years ago. Annoyingly, he was equally astonished to find that he could remember the incident quite clearly himself, once reminded of it.

The recollection bore no further rumination. He had already wasted enough time in useless banter.

"As you wish, Miss Lupin. You are quite correct; I should use more discretion in my rare moments of friendliness. As should you, in whom you bestow your trust."

He stood then and gestured towards the lab door. His voice was bored and indifferent. "Now, it is getting late. The Headmaster does not want you to travel alone. Do you wish an escort to your home, and then see the lab tomorrow? Or would you prefer to come to Hogwarts tonight?"

She looked at him for a moment as though at a loss, and then at her papers and unfinished equations. She shrugged. "I wasn't getting anywhere with my research right now, anyway. Give me a moment to clear off and ward the lab, won't you?"

He gave a silent nod of assent and stepped to the door.

With an agitated wave of her wand, she gathered all the parchment rolls into a neat bundle and sealed them in her desk. She grabbed her bag and removed the hair tie holding her plait. In a few deft movements, the long mass was free, and she massaged her scalp vigorously for a moment, as though having it constrained had been uncomfortable.

She then stopped at several drawers and cabinets, tapping each with her wand along the way, before finally stepping out into the corridor. He followed her silently, the look of sardonic amusement again upon his face, and waited while she locked and warded the lab door.

"All right, then," she said, glancing at her watch, "it's not that late. If it's not too inconvenient, may I see the lab at Hogwarts before I go home for the night?"

He gave a small, ironic bow. "The inconvenience is minor, I assure you, Miss Lupin. The Headmaster commanded, and so here I am. Apparate to the Three Broomsticks, and wait for me there. I will escort you the rest of the way to the school."

She nodded, and with a loud 'crack' was gone. He waited only a moment after, examining the disturbance of his own thoughts. This Lupin was certainly not like the other. Without allowing himself to dwell on the subject, he followed her.

* * *

Rowena stood anxiously outside the Three Broomsticks. The evening was warm and clear, but the sky was darkening toward dusk, the setting sun leaving the sky a riot of crimson and violet hues. It was hard for her to enjoy the aesthetics of the view, however, when the dim lighting left Hogsmeade cloaked in mysterious shadows, familiar shapes becoming sinister in the distortion.

Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. She had not dreamt that a hastily scrawled note to the Headmaster would bring her face to face with Severus Snape. She wished she had more time to examine her feelings over the issue.

She was not so irrational as to imagine a teenaged crush, grown into an adulthood fascination (admittedly bordering on obsession), was in any way akin to love. Yet, she still felt as though something about him spoke to something inside of her in a primitive language that she couldn't begin to understand.

The loud sound of Apparation rent the late evening stillness, and he was immediately beside her. She hadn't realised she was trembling—she greatly disliked being alone in public places in the dark—until the sound of his arrival, followed by his deep voice, made her jump.

"We do not have all night, Miss Lupin. Hogwarts is this way, if you have forgotten?" The words were sarcastic, but the tone was almost teasing.

"No, Professor, I had not forgotten. I believe you instructed me to wait for you?" she said archly, concealing her trembling by crossing her arms, as though for warmth.

He snorted at this, amused at her apparent willingness to spar with him. "Since when does anyone do as I instruct? If I could manage this with my students, perhaps teaching would not be quite so odious."

She laughed lightly, more a soft chuckle under her breath. "If teaching annoys you so much, why do it?"

"Research," he said shortly. How could she understand what it was like for him? Who besides Dumbledore would even trust a former Death Eater, let alone give one a job? His 'former' status was not well known, but any background check would reveal the Death Eater ties. Besides, he and Albus had taken pains over the years to assure that those few remaining, secretively active Death Eaters still believed him to be 'in the fold'.

He expected her to question further, but she merely looked at him askance for a moment and nodded. The rest of the walk was silent until they reached the castle. She stopped briefly at the front doors and looked at it, almost wistfully.

"Longing for lost school days, Miss Lupin? I would not have suspected you to be guilty of sentimentality. The child I remember seemed quite rational," he said.

She grinned and shook her head vigorously. "No, I wouldn't return to my school days for anything. But I did enjoy the castle. I'm afraid my rationality hasn't completely overcome all sentimentality. I do hold some claims to occasional bursts of pure emotion. I merely work harder to suppress it than most."

He nodded seriously. "I suppose that is the best that can be hoped for. The empty labs, of which you are to have freedom of choice, are in the dungeons. You will have to forgive the location, but of course the classrooms and living areas have claim to the prime locations. Follow me."

She didn't mind the labs being in the dungeons. Most ingredients kept better in cool environments, and many experiments could be quite explosive. Being surrounded by thick, heavy layers of inert stone often prevented buildings from being burnt down. She noticed his name on several of the doors as they walked down the corridor, and wondered at the wisdom of having a second lab so close to this enigmatic man.

Not far from the last door with his name was a series of blank doors. He walked along these, throwing them open with a wave of his wand, lighting the torches and candles as he went. "They are nearly identical in size, but the arrangements of cabinets, shelves, and other storage facilities vary from room to room. None of these are in use. Choose one."

She looked in them all, contemplatively. Opening drawers, cupboard doors, examining shelves—one room was useless to her, as all the shelves were much too tall. He watched silently and offered no comments.

"What exactly am I permitted to research here?" she asked, beginning a second, more thorough inspection of a room she found particularly agreeable.

"Whatever you like. Dumbledore has connections, and will likely be bringing requests to you, but he will place no restrictions on your work."

"What supplies will be provided for me, and what do I need to bring myself?"

Severus leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed lazily over his chest, and observed her with a look of boredom.

"Dumbledore will provide you with whatever you need to complete any projects he requests of you, as well as any basic supplies you might need for independent research. I would assume, however, that the more exotic things would need to be obtained yourself."

She nodded, still not looking at him, as she continued to move about the room.

"I make extensive use of lab animals. Will I be allowed to house them here? Will the house-elves tend them if I am away for a few days?" She was looking at a bank of shelves along one wall, which would be quite suitable for small cages.

"Yes, to both. So long as you don't intend to keep dragons down here—for those, you would need to see Hagrid." He actually smirked at this, and she caught his eye and smiled again.

"I'm sorry. I'm bombarding you with questions. I should just tell you how grateful I am, and leave it at that. I've never had this much space to work with, or been given free rein with my research at the Ministry. The thought that I can do it here almost makes me giddy."

"Understood. I would be surprised if you had no questions," he said with a small nod.

"Am I allowed to seal my lab? I don't allow anyone into my work or notes, at least not while they're in progress. If I can't secure them here, I'll just take things home every day."

"No, no, that will not be necessary. You are allowed to seal it however you wish. However, I will warn you that the school is home to countless miscreants who are determined to break any enchantment they find. You will do well to alternate your wards and locks frequently."

She nodded again in understanding, and moved to a door on the back wall of the lab near a cabinet, which was locked. "Of course. I always modify my wards. Where does this door go?"

"_My_ lab," he said, amused to see her jerk her hand away as though burnt. "I will be most displeased if I find you have intruded there, though I have little doubt you could eventually get through the enchantments. I do not pretend to have your expertise in that particular area."

"I wouldn't dream of violating your lab, Professor," Rowena said, clearly horrified at the very idea. "Perhaps I should choose another room. I didn't realise they were connected."

Severus shrugged. "I am not concerned. You are not a Slytherin, and therefore I will trust you, at least in this. I'm sure your scientific code of honour will keep you out. As for finding another lab, my lab has a communicating door with all the other rooms in this dungeon. That is why I chose it. I like to be in control. Do not make your choice based on that."

"All right then," she said, dusting her hands against her robes. "I'll use this one."

He threw her a small disk-like object, which she only just managed to catch.

"That is a Portkey. The Ministry authorises a select few of them for use by Hogwarts faculty and staff. You will need to set it for two locations, likely your home and this lab, and set the code words. It will then transport you with the word, to either of those two locations. No one can use it without your words, so change them often and do not lose it.

"Now, I will step out so you can attune it to this place. I will then escort you to your residence, where you can set it there. After that, I believe you will have no further need of my assistance at present." Without waiting for her reply, he stepped out into the corridor.

She joined him there a few moments later, the disk safely in her pocket, and he instantly began walking back towards the Entrance Hall and out into the night. His brisk pace was difficult for her to match, so he was forced to decrease his stride slightly to accommodate her.

Once in Hogsmeade, he turned to her, and asked, "Apparation directions to your home, Miss Lupin?"

She had been so lost in her thoughts as they walked that she hadn't realised they were already in Hogsmeade. "Oh, of course. I have a flat in Muggle London. We can't Apparate inside — I have it protected — so we will arrive at the door…." She gave him the precise directions, and with the standard 'crack' of Apparation, she was gone, and he was with her in a moment.

* * *

He arrived in a brightly lit if somewhat worn and dingy corridor, facing a very solid-appearing wooden door with a small round lens of some sort in the center, at approximately eye-level. From what he could detect from casual inspection, she seemed to have some sort of mild Muggle-repelling enchantments on this portion of the corridor. Muggles living in the building likely did not even realise there was a door here, and doubtlessly had never seen their neighbour come and go.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was now completely out of his element. The Ministry and her lab were neutral territory, and in the case of Hogwarts, his own. Now, however, he was firmly in hers, and it was not a comfortable feeling. It was impossible for him to recall any time he had engaged in any sort of social interaction that had no ulterior motive, whether posturing among fellow Death Eaters, or attempting to maintain that position now in his more dangerous role as a spy.

He looked at her as she surreptitiously used her wand from inside her sleeve, removing numerous wards and enchantments. She looked pale and frightened. Actually, upon closer examination, she looked positively terrified.

Now _this_ was familiar ground. He had been a Death Eater, after all. Indeed, in his own mind, he still considered himself to be a Death Eater, albeit a traitorous one. The only 'former' Death Eaters were the dead ones. He had spent the years after the Dark Lord's fall maintaining, even _fostering,_ his reputation for viciousness and cruelty to maintain his cover. Having people—particularly young women alone with him—be afraid of him was no unusual thing. What was unusual was that he found her fear annoying. But her fear did not seem to stem from him—she was wholly focused on opening the door to her flat.

"Miss Lupin, I will leave you now. If you have need of anything, contact Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Or myself," he said, and then stepped back slightly in preparation to Apparate away.

She turned to look at him with such a look of barely concealed panic that he paused. Her voice was tremulous when she asked, "Professor, would you mind terribly coming inside a moment… just until I've checked the flat?"

He raised an eyebrow at the request, but inclined his head. Was she actually asking _him_ to accompany her—for _safety_? That was a twist!

Silently, he followed her into the flat, which was brightly lighted even though empty. She shut the door behind him and sealed it quickly, then waved her hand at the seating area near the fireplace and said vaguely, "Please, make yourself at home if you like, I won't be a minute."

She then took a deep breath, as though steeling herself to battle dragons, and proceeded to search her flat from top to bottom, opening every cupboard and wardrobe, every door, looking behind the shower curtain, under the bed, and checking her seals and wards on her windows.

Severus observed her silently, as he looked about the flat. It was small, but comfortable. A small fireplace sat between two large windows on one wall, surrounded by bookshelves filled with a wide variety of books. In front of the fireplace was a seating group, which included a sofa, two chairs and a coffee table. A handsome wizards chess set sat in place of honour on the coffee table.

Over the mantelpiece of the fireplace was an enormous, very artistic photograph of the Hogwarts grounds. The colours and view that had been captured were remarkable. The sunset over the mountains, oblique to the castle, caused the riotously painted sky to reflect its brilliant colours off the surface of the lake. The castle, the clouds and the mountains were all brushed in amazing Technicolor of violets, pinks, and fiery golds. Nearly everyone's favourite beech tree, next to the lake, was gracefully standing full in the center of the photo. It was a wizarding photo, so the breeze rippled across the lawn and water, causing the tree branches to wave gently. It was remarkable in its artistry.

And then he noticed it. He wouldn't have seen it if it hadn't moved at just that moment. Nearly obscured behind the tree was a person, sitting at the base of it, a book propped across his knees as he leant back against the enormous trunk. This figure had just turned a page in his book, catching Severus' attention.

It was a teenaged boy—more specifically, it was _himself_, as a boy. The profile was unmistakable. There could not be two such noses in the world!

The boy was such a small portion of the photo that it was quite possible that he was there accidentally. Perhaps the photographer had found the picturesque tableau of the scene compelling, and either had not noticed the boy, or had not wanted to waste the moment and possibly lose the colours by waiting for him to move, or asking him to leave.

Still, in light of what the other Lupin and Dumbledore had said today, it awoke his suspicions. He had never fancied himself the object of any genuine female interest, and it was a curious sensation. It was not altogether unpleasant, but it roused a deeper level of mistrust within him. She was scary, this Lupin.

The rest of her flat, which he could see from where he stood near the fireplace, was feminine, but without the perfusion of lace, flowers and stuffed animals or whatnot, which he imagined to decorate the average single woman's home. The wall opposite the fireplace and windows contained her cupboards and kitchen area.

The only thing dividing the seating area and kitchen was that the latter was lino, while the living area had a deep, warm cream coloured carpet. Opposite the door that exited the flat was a small hallway, leading to a small bathroom on one side, and what he presumed would be an equally small bedroom on the other.

He was standing near the window when she returned from this odd search of her flat. She was still pale, but now looked more collected, as well as a bit embarrassed. However, she set her chin at a defiant angle, as though daring him to ridicule her.

"Thank you," she said. "Chasing demons, you know? It sort of helps me feel like I can control the fear. I appreciate that you came inside… I do feel safer when I'm not alone."

She turned away from him to the kitchenette. "It's not quite eight; I think perhaps you gave up your supper to come and see me? May I offer you tea or something before you leave?"

Curiouser and curiouser! Was this normal etiquette to offer someone refreshment in this situation? Or was she indulging in some childhood fancy? And she felt _safe_? With _him_? Still, he couldn't quite overcome his own curiosity enough to make himself leave—though part of him felt he had never been in a more dangerous place in his life. He inclined his head slightly.

"Tea, then."

She offered a small smile of assent and quickly set to work. Many of her cupboards were too tall for her, so she summoned the necessary items with her wand. In short order she had brought them both hot tea and biscuits. He was quite taken aback by her apparent domesticity, but by her ease and obviously decreasing embarrassment, he assumed this must be an accepted ritual.

He sat in one of the chairs and she took the one opposite, placing the tray on the table between them, next to the chess set. Once seated, her nervousness seemed to return in full measure, as he heard the tell-tale rattle of her teapot against the rim of the cup. She poured the tea and passed a cup to him before taking her own.

Now she did seem uncomfortable. He even smirked inwardly when she glanced nervously at the picture on the wall. He decided to attempt to rattle her further and see how she would handle herself.

With a deceptively casual voice, he asked, "Who is the artistic photographer?"

He was pleased to see her quickly avert her gaze to her teacup, sipping the hot liquid to buy time to compose her thoughts. He was perversely pleased that he had succeeded in ruffling her.

"I took that photo, in my third year," she said, without elaborating. But this time she met his eyes, and again there was that flash of defiance.

The inscrutable expression did not change, but Severus applauded her silently. He hadn't expected her to answer so directly. She had spirit, this Lupin, which was something he always thought the other Lupin sorely lacked.

"And am I in it deliberately or accidentally?" he challenged.

Leaning back into her chair, she looked at him appraisingly. Her mind, though, was closed, in spite of his skill in Legilimency. He wouldn't actually cast the spell on her, not now, without a good reason. But usually he could tell much more of surface thoughts when someone met his gaze so fully, as he had practised the skill intently for years. She was apparently a reasonably accomplished Occlumens. He made mental note not to underestimate this Lupin and peered back at her, waiting.

She gave a mischievous grin, then—which reminded him forcibly and unpleasantly of her brother—and said in a tone of mock innocence, "Oh, are you in that picture, Professor Snape? I had no idea. Are you quite certain?"

And then in a more serious, yet somehow no less teasing tone of voice, she said, "I had not expected you to ask questions to which you already know the answer, Professor. I suppose my brother told you why I would be more willing to see you than him?"

He had expected her to make excuses and denials. Her relaxed honesty, such as it was, disarmed him. In spite of the similarity in appearance, she seemed to be of very different temperament than her brother.

"Perhaps I ought to rephrase the question," he said dryly, refusing to let her get off without answering it. "Why, Miss Lupin, am I in that photo?"

She returned her cup to the table and regarded him more seriously still. All hint of playfulness was gone. "Don't ask questions that you won't like the answer to, Professor Snape. It's most unwise."

"I don't care for secrets or mysteries, Miss Lupin," he said, not entirely honestly. He liked secrets very much—when they were of his own devising and control. "Either can be dangerous. I would not ask if I were not fully prepared to hear the answer."

She shrugged then, but he noticed she took care to look away, and would not meet his gaze directly. Apparently, she wasn't as confident in her Occlumency as she had seemed.

"All right, then. I had a fascination for you from the moment I set eyes on you, on the train, in my first year. That photo is a remnant of a teenaged crush. I took it during your seventh year at Hogwarts, when I thought I would never see you again."

Severus raised a brow at her, doubtingly. She'd had four more years of Hogwarts after he had left; she could easily have taken another photo without his presence in it. There was a reason for that picture to have such a place of honour on her wall. He determined to learn it.

He smirked at her. "Partial truths, Miss Lupin? You might have done well in Slytherin. Very well, I will let that pass for now. No one has a 'crush' on a face like this, I assure you."

Rowena shook her head, and he thought he could detect a faint blush. "You misunderstand me. I didn't mean to imply that I still… it's just, I like the photo—the figure of the boy is necessary to give the photo its meaning, don't you see?"

"Its 'meaning'?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course. Look at it. It's beautiful. Hogwarts at sunset was always my favourite time. No artist with a paintbrush could ever fully capture that amazing variety of colour. The lake looks like rippling glass, reflecting the beauty all around.

"And here sits the boy," she said, rising from her seat to point unnecessarily at the figure. He was like a tiny black stain on a landscaped painting, a harsh contrast to his surroundings.

"He's such a small portion of the scene, isn't he? Dark and lonely and isolated, completely oblivious to the beauty which surrounds him... and completely unable to see that he is an integral part _of_ that beauty. Without him in the picture, it would just be any nice landscape photo... there would be no contrast... no emotion... no soul."

She stopped talking suddenly, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to get carried away, rambling nonsense in her nervousness.

"Anyway, I like it, so I've kept it, even though the reason I originally took it really doesn't apply anymore," she said, returning to her chair and curling her feet under her. She still determinedly avoided his gaze. "Most people don't even notice the boy."

Her apparent ease, with which she brushed off her 'original reason' for taking the photo, surprised him. Dumbledore, and even Lupin, had implied that they thought her interest in him would have faded over the years. Yet something in Remus' behaviour had alerted Severus to his concern that it hadn't—at least not enough for brotherly satisfaction. Her manner now suggested that she at least wished Severus to believe the fascination was gone.

With annoyance, he found himself to be somewhat disappointed, which he quickly suppressed. What rational woman would carry a childhood fancy this far into adulthood? Especially without seeing the object of her fascination in all that time? If she had ever truly had such sentiments for him to begin with, which still seemed rather unlikely—the evidence of the enlarged photograph notwithstanding.

He felt she had not told him the whole tale of the picture. On one hand, the boy was necessary to give the photo it's 'meaning'; yet she wanted him to believe that most people didn't notice him? It was a blatant contradiction.

He would have liked to leave then. Already something about this woman had caused him to be more communicative than was his wont, and he found himself disturbingly curious about her. That was not something to be encouraged. There was no room in his life for this sort of curiosity, especially now, with war escalating by the moment.

However, even he knew it would be in poor taste to leave so abruptly after being served tea, so he sipped at the hot liquid and tried to squash the sensation. It would not be quelled, however, and she did not seem inclined to start a new subject of conversation. At last he broke the silence again himself.

"Another question, then. Why are you so frightened of your own flat?" he asked, thinking of her odd behaviour when they first entered.

She paled then, and he thought he detected a shudder pass through her slight frame. "I'm terrified because I've never completely gotten over the assault by Warrington. What you see is as dark as this flat ever gets, and I never come home without searching every nook and cranny. I can't force myself not to be afraid, but I _can_ force myself to face the fear head-on. And so I do, every time I enter this flat alone."

"Then why not get a roommate?" he asked, as though the solution was obvious and she was being obtuse not to see it.

"Because I don't really trust anyone," she said with a painful smile. "Remus is my brother, as you've recently learned. What you don't know is that at one time I was closer to him than to life itself. I can't begin to describe how much I adored him. But he shattered my trust in a way that I can't possibly explain, and I've had difficulty trusting anyone since."

She smiled sheepishly. "Which is more than you wanted to know about why I live alone…."

He waved a hand dismissively. "It seems to me women rarely have short answers to simple questions, and that was not a simple question. I had forgotten about Warrington. It was careless of me to forget. I should not have broached such an unpleasant subject."

Which was as close as Severus had ever gotten to an apology.

He gestured to the chess set on the table, anxious for a diversion away from the realm of personal conversation, yet uncharacteristically reluctant to leave. "Is this decoration, Miss Lupin, or do you actually play?"

She met his eyes with a challenge and nodded. "I play, Professor."

"Shall we, then?" he asked, his tone supremely unconcerned.

"Very well. But I should warn you not to play against me if being defeated by a woman would irritate you, as I'm a fairly decent player. You also won't want to pay any attention to anything these pieces say. I've never lost with this particular set, so they're rather partial to me, and tend to heckle my opponent," she answered, grinning.

Her smile lightened the atmosphere, and he was glad she was willing to let the heavier subjects drop. He inclined his head. "Noted. However, there is a first time for everything. Perhaps tonight you will be defeated with your prized set.

"It is poor strategy to warn your opponent of your strengths before a game, Miss Lupin. To ensure a fair game, allow me to offer warnings of my own. Being defeated by anyone annoys me. I never lose, except to Albus Dumbledore, unless I have made an error in judgement. I do not like to make errors.

"I will be the gentleman and allow you to be white, you start."

For the next three hours they played an intense game, neither giving an inch, the strategy cautious and testing on both sides. Severus even relaxed somewhat, and his face was not so lined. He occasionally gave a soft exclamation, "Aha," when he would execute a particularly challenging set of moves or take a valuable piece. But Rowena was also confident and attentive.

She was staring at the board, contemplating her next move—each of them had barely a handful of pieces remaining. She was pleased, as she felt she would have the checkmate within six moves. However, as she reached for her knight, she checked herself and looked again at the arrangement of the pieces. Looking up from the board to Severus, she smiled in surprise. She would win in six moves, if it were not for the fact that he would win in four!

"Congratulations, Professor. You've won. It will take a long time for my pieces to forgive me this defeat," she said, grinning broadly now and falling backwards into her chair.

"It was a surprisingly good game, Miss Lupin. I am by no means confident that I could defeat you routinely. I would be willing to play again another time."

With that he stood up and moved to the door. "It is late. I'm sure Albus will be in contact with you again to finalise arrangements. Maintain your vigilance of distrust, Miss Lupin."

She stood and nodded, still smiling softly. "My Apparition barrier is only one-way, Professor. You may Apparate out, though no one may Apparate in. I suppose I will be seeing you sometimes at Hogwarts?"

"A one-way Apparation barrier? Interesting. Yes, I'm certain we will meet again. Good evening."

And with a loud 'crack', he was gone. It was a long time before Rowena slept. Her mind was full of the night's events and the man who had stepped back into her life as abruptly as he had left it twenty years before.


	3. Chapter 3: Remembrances

This is a fanfiction based in JKR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a _lot_ of help with this story!

**Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.**

This chapter contains some review of information also contained within the prologue, but is as short as possible so as not to bore those of you who took the time to read the prologue.

* * *

Chapter 3: Remembrances

* * *

Rowena sat silent and alone in her flat, obviously fuming. In the last few days her very quiet, admittedly slightly dull, life had been in uproar. First, three days ago, Severus Snape had arrived unexpectedly at her Ministry lab, and now this.

Her mother had just left after a long and somewhat heated argument. In the end, Rowena had relented. But she was not happy about it.

This coming Saturday, Professor Dumbledore was hosting an informal Memorial Service for Sirius Black at Hogwarts. Remus, of course, was devastated over his friend's death. Their mother insisted that Rowena attend the event, as a show of support for her brother. Never mind that Rowena had never liked Black and hadn't seen him in over twenty years. Never mind that Black had tried to commit a murder using Remus as the weapon. Never mind that she did not feel the least bit sorry that the git was dead. Remus was grieving. He needed his family.

With great reluctance, she agreed to attend.

- + - + - + - + - +

Severus Snape leaned over his cauldron, carefully counting clock-wise stirring motions. The potion he was working on, the Wolfsbane potion, was fiendishly complex and allowed no room for error. Yet, he had done it so often that the routine no longer required all of his concentration. The rest of his formidable intellect was free to indulge in rage and irritation.

Black's Memorial. Dumbledore had made it clear that he expected Severus to attend.

Bloody hell.

The only sorrow he had over Black's death was that it was Bellatrix and not himself who succeeded in bringing it about.

Perhaps that was going a little too far. He certainly had hated the git. Years ago he would have cheerfully and remorselessly killed him. But, in all honesty, he had tried to get Black to stay away from the Ministry that night. If the mongrel had listened, he would still be alive.

Still, even if Severus had long since stopped actively wishing for Black's death, he had never stopped loathing the man. Why should he pretend to be sorry he was dead? Why should he go to a service where his very presence would add to the pain and suffering of those who were genuinely grieving? Potter and Lupin, at the very least, would know he held no sorrow. Dumbledore, Tonks, Moody… countless others would as well.

Unfortunately, Albus' real reason for wanting him to attend could not be ignored. Pettigrew. Wormtail. The Rat. He could be anywhere… everywhere. There was virtually nowhere on the Hogwarts grounds outside the castle that they could completely secure against his sneaking, prying eyes. Even many places _inside_ Hogwarts were vulnerable to the Rat. He would be reporting back to Voldemort.

Severus and Albus alone knew how dangerous Wormtail was to his dual role. One slip, where Wormtail could see, could cost his own life and the lives of many others. Severus had even gone so far as to actively seek out an animal familiar to aid in watching for this particular risk. The creature, which had bonded with him, was uniquely suited to this role, though it was not a creature commonly found among familiars.

The Dark Lord expected Severus to be his spy upon Dumbledore. If Severus deliberately absented himself from a gathering of this sort, Voldemort would be suspicious.

Distasteful as it was, he had relented at last. He did not relish the idea of adding to the sincere grief of others, regardless of his feelings for the departed, or those 'others' themselves. Cruel and sadistic by nature he may be, but even he knew the limits of common decency. However, there was no help for it. He would perform as expected.

With great reluctance, he agreed to attend.

* * *

The weather was more suitable to a picnic than a Memorial, clear and cheerfully sunny. The haze of the early morning sunshine promised a mid-July day. The house-elves and staff at Hogwarts had taken care to tastefully decorate the tables set out in a large ground-floor classroom. Numerous soft sofas and chairs were brought in and scattered about, so it was like entering an extra-large sitting room. Buffet tables against the wall would be constantly filled and refreshed.

Large sprays of flower baskets were arranged about the room. Gryffindor banners hung from the ceiling with black sashes diagonally across them. Enlarged photos of Sirius from happier days hung on the walls or stood propped on makeshift easels. There were even a few photos of him as the bear-like dog.

There would be no speeches, no fanfare. Instead it would just be a simple, informal gathering of friends—primarily members of the Order—to discuss and reminisce about the lost comrade.

Severus arrived early, after releasing his familiar to watch for the Rat. His hope was to find a shadowed corner and avoid notice of others. He quickly found a secluded chair, his back to the wall so he could scrutinise new arrivals suspiciously. Dark solitude seemed to enshroud him with familiar ease.

Albus and several of the other Hogwarts professors were already present, speaking to each other in low tones on one side of the room. The Headmaster noticed his entrance, but did not speak with Severus or attempt to draw him from his seclusion.

Lupin was among the first of the non-Hogwarts teachers to arrive. Surprisingly, he addressed Severus almost as soon as he spotted the other man.

"Severus—this is a surprise. Thanks for coming. I can imagine what it must have cost you to be here. It means a lot to me that you made the effort, in spite of everything."

"Lupin," his said warningly, "I am not here to offer condolences, or out of respect for the departed, as you well know. If I could spare us all the pain of my presence, I would gladly do so. You have no idea what it _costs_ me to be here."

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. He looked older than his years by far, and this new grief had added to this air. "Severus… okay, you're right. I have no idea. I'm still grateful for the effort. For what it's worth, I appreciate your information and help where my sister is concerned."

Severus glared at him suspiciously, but Lupin was too honest by nature to be a very accomplished Occlumens, and Severus could detect no falsehood in him at present. After a moment, the scowl diminished slightly and he nodded his cool acknowledgement of the gratitude.

He would not touch the subject of the sister, however. There hadn't been enough passage of time, since he met with her on Dumbledore's orders, for him to feel he had regained his equilibrium where she was concerned. Nor were his own thoughts on the matter any of the bloody werewolf's business.

"Do everyone a favour, if you can, Lupin. Try to keep Potter from noticing my presence. We despise each other enough, without him thinking I am here to punish him further. The boy gives me plenty of fodder with which to torment him, I have no need to take advantage of his weakness or add to his pain."

Lupin gave him a pained grimace at this, and nodded as well. "I'll do what I can. He should be coming later. Moody's bringing him."

His tired face brightened somewhat, and he smiled slightly as he changed the topic back to his sister. Remus was either unaware of the Potions master's discomfort with the topic, or unwilling to let it drop.

"My mum informs me that Rowena plans to attend today. I'm sure that's mum's doing. My sister wouldn't come just to comfort me—at least, not without a great deal of pressure. I don't know how to patch things up with her. But I do know she'd much rather speak to you than to me. This gathering will only make everything worse for her, I think."

Snape sneered angrily. "I am also not here to mind your sister, Lupin, or to provide diversion for her so she can avoid you. Your problems with her are of your own devising. Leave me out of it."

Remus bristled angrily. "I was not implying that… I wasn't asking you to… Oh, hell, never mind. It makes me sick to think of her fancying you anyway! I don't know what she ever saw in you, but I sincerely hope she's gotten over it!" With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away.

Severus was irritated, though he couldn't exactly say why. Stubborn denial allowed him to continue to believe that Lupin's implications that his sister fancied him were all part of an elaborate joke. He was certain Black and Potter would have thought some sort of enormous humiliation with himself as the centerpiece would be an appropriate final tribute to any of their foursome. Perhaps Lupin, as the last remaining member, wanted to pay homage to that memory.

Most of the guests had not even arrived yet, and already he'd had enough. He decided that a walk of the grounds was in order, and left silently, unnoticed by any of the others.

* * *

As the morning had promised, the afternoon was hot and bright, though the sun was beginning its downward climb toward evening. Severus heard a series of splashes in the lake, which did not sound like the giant squid's usual antics. He walked cautiously toward the disturbance and saw a woman in black, a mass of loose, light-brown curls cascading down her back. She was throwing stones into the lake with great enthusiasm. A few she skipped across the surface. Most she threw with all the apparent might her small form and poor throwing technique could muster.

Rowena Lupin.

He amused himself for a short while in watching her, and then decided to announce his presence.

"I believe it will require a heavier missile to stun the giant squid. It has grown to be quite large," he said wryly.

She stopped mid-swing and straightened rigidly, but did not turn to look at him.

"Professor Snape. I did not expect to see you at this… event," she said in a brittle voice.

"Nor did I," he said darkly.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"Dumbledore," he said flatly.

"Ah. We all have obligations to fulfil then, don't we? Mine was my mum. She seemed to think my _brother_ needed me." She snorted in disgust, and continued, "My brother stopped 'needing' me when I was eleven years old. Probably before then."

She was just about to throw another stone when two figures appeared on the path leading from the main gates towards the castle. The stone slipped, forgotten, out of her fingers and she breathed, "Merlin's beard!"

Severus looked to see what had caught her attention and understood at once. His voice was as sneering as his expression when she turned to look at him at last.

"Yes, that is The Boy Who Lived. Remarkably like his father, even at a distance, is he not? Moody was sent to fetch him. He is alternating, from what I have been told, between blaming himself for Sirius's death and blaming me."

He gestured to the far side of the lake where the paths were more wooded and therefore more concealed. "Would you care to walk with me, Miss Lupin? I doubt you would be interested in meeting the famous Harry Potter at this juncture, and I am certain more wishes than my own would be answered if I did not have to see him this day."

She nodded then, still not quite meeting his eyes. Her own were pink and puffy as though from crying, which she was strenuously trying to conceal. He began to walk away from the castle and the approaching guests.

He was startled again, and nearly jerked away as though burned, when he felt her hand take his arm—she had stumbled slightly as she picked her way over the rocky bank, and grabbed his arm to right herself. No doubt she was wearing some ridiculous variety of shoe-style which made the uneven ground treacherous. There was nothing in the gesture. It was quite casual. His thick shirt and robes easily covered his Dark Mark. Indeed, he never wore anything that was not securely buttoned, wrist to throat as though cloaking himself in a suit of armour.

But he was _not_ accustomed to being touched so casually. Surreptitiously, he glanced sideways at her, but she was looking at the ground, apparently picking her way over the stones. She moved to drop her hand, but lost her footing again, causing him to instinctively tense the muscle of his arm to give her more support.

He decided to continue as though this was normal, her hand lightly looped through his arm. Bloody hell, it probably _was_ normal. It appeared that she was only using his arm for support. Indeed, this seemed to be the case, as once they gained the more level path he had chosen, rather than the rock-strewn bank of the lake, she let go of his arm.

"What reason could he have for blaming you for Black's death?" she asked in a fragile-sounding voice. Her glance flitted about from trees to flowers to the path before them, but not at him. "From what I read in the papers and heard at the Ministry, it was Bellatrix who killed him. I didn't see any indication that you were there."

Severus frowned. There was too much in that story that she simply shouldn't know. He couldn't explain much without revealing his activities with the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. Still, some explanation seemed in order.

"I knew where Potter was going when he left the school. Black happened to come in contact with me in regards to Potter's antics of the evening. If I had not told Black where the boy was going, he would not have known and not have been there to get killed. In my defence, I did try to get Black to stay away."

"Well, if Potter hadn't been messing about in stuff he shouldn't have, he wouldn't have been in trouble, and Black wouldn't have felt the need to go after him and pull him out of the fire, would he?" she asked in irritation. "What business did school children have at the Ministry?"

"Just so, which is why the other half of his anger is directed at himself, and more deservedly, in my opinion. However, I believe it is a normal part of the grieving process to be angry, is it not? Potter and I loathe each other. I do not deny it. It matters little if he directs his anger towards me. The boy is quite unbalanced. If he did not have a ready target for his anger, he could easily do something rash."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It's actually very kind of you to allow him to vent his anger at you like that without justification."

He gave a surprised, derisive laugh, in spite of himself. "Kind? I assure you, Miss Lupin, he has plenty of justification for his anger with me. You did hear me say I loathe the boy, did you not? He is the image and likeness of his father. I take sadistic delight in enraging him. It is one of my few great pleasures here. He is a student of this school, so I am honour bound to help keep him safe, in spite of the trouble he gets himself into. But I have no duty to like him, or to be 'kind' to him. Do not deceive yourself in that regard."

She smiled weakly at him and nodded again. "Understood. If he's really that much like James, you have plenty of reason to dislike him. I suppose that's why Remus likes him so much. It must be like having his 'brother' back."

She trailed off bitterly.

They walked in silence for several minutes along the shaded path. Rowena was grateful for the shade. Wearing long black dress robes in the hot sun on a warm day was not a comfortable thing. It was Severus, in the end, who broke the silence. His curiosity about this Lupin was gaining the better of him once again.

"I seem to recall you considering being an Auror for a career choice, or a Healer. How is it that you did not choose either of those?"

It was now her turn to look at him askance. She was surprised that he would recall so much about her from so long ago. That particular conversation had happened on the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of her second year of school. A small pool of happiness seemed to fill her, taking a little of the edge off her stress and sorrow of the day.

She sighed and shrugged. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I was never really brave enough for Auror work, even if I had done better in your Potions class. I'm too shy to be a Healer, and again Potions was a problem there. I doubt I could have passed the certification exams."

"Your problem with Potions was an unwillingness to trust your own instincts and allow for variability," he said, suddenly remembering the Muggle instruments she had tried to bring into his classroom to add precision where variation was crucial.

Her warm feeling of pleasure grew just a little more as she delighted in the knowledge that he remembered more of her than she had expected him to. He began his teaching career at Hogwarts in her seventh year of school—and she had been singularly unremarkable as a Potions student.

Pulling her mind away from the flight of fancy it immediately wanted to take, she brought herself back to the conversation at hand.

"I still do some work at the hospital fairly regularly. I volunteer mostly with the Children's Ward. I apprenticed every summer until I finished school, and for a few months afterward, because my dad wanted me to be a Healer so badly. I had almost earned my Level One Healer Certificate just with my hours put in then, though I'd have still had to pass the tests. In the end, I found I just couldn't deal with the death."

He noticed that she refused to meet his eyes as she said this, and suspected there was more to the story. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the 'more' was.

"Forgive me if I pry into personal matters, Miss Lupin, but I had a bit of conversation with your brother before I came outside. He seemed rather anxious for you and I to become better acquainted. Considering my past history with your brother, you will understand when I say that such behaviour makes me highly suspicious. I wonder if you can account for this?"

They had reached a small, shaded copse of trees, and several benches were scattered pleasantly among them. She sat down—perhaps glad of a chance to take pressure off her feet—and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. Her natural skin-tone was such that it might be able to conceal most blushes, but in the gentle light of the sun filtering through the leaves, the pink flush to her cheeks was unmistakable.

She nodded, but still wouldn't meet his eyes. It was long moments before she spoke. At last, she decided that only honesty would serve here. She faced him openly, though she still upheld her Occlumency, such as it was. It would at least be enough to help suppress much of her more fanciful thoughts, as his eyes seemed to pierce her, drawing out her secrets.

"Remus would be trying to further our acquaintance, because he probably thinks I would want it. As I told you when you asked about the photo in my flat, I fancied you in school. Remus knows that. It was really closer to an obsession.

"I've spoken to him as little as possible for the last twenty years. I don't know if he's told you why. I think he regrets it. I think he would like to mend things. Much of our argument has to do with our feelings about you—my fascination, and his dislike. I wouldn't be surprised if he thinks that by furthering my acquaintance with you, he and I might find a way to reconcile our differences."

She gave a small, bitter laugh and continued, "I wouldn't like to guess what he hopes to accomplish. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he hopes you'll be a real prat towards me, so that I'll decide that he and his friends were right about you all along. He could then swoop in and do the whole comforting big-brother routine."

Severus observed and listened in silence, his face impassive, though his mind was whirling. He could detect no falsehood in her, yet he continued to be wary of the implications.

"He would be likely to succeed, if that is his intention. I have no doubt that you will soon find I am as unpleasant as your brother believes," he said dryly.

"What caused the rift in the first place? You behaved as strangers from the first moment on the train, before you met me."

She sighed and closed her eyes, remembering. "I was closer to Remus than to any other person in my life, before or since. I can't begin to explain to you how close we were. After he was infected, my parents isolated us completely. We had no one but each other. But when I came to school, he suddenly decided that he didn't want anyone to know we were related.

"I realised years later that it was because he was trying to _protect_ me, in case anyone ever found out that he was a werewolf. All I knew at the time was that he rejected me when I needed him most."

She was now looking at the tuft of hair she was playing with in her hands, but her eyes were blinking unnaturally, and her voice was thick. He felt rather sorry that he had asked the question, but she seemed determined to answer, so he did not interrupt.

"Getting on the Hogwarts Express that first time was the scariest thing I had ever done in my life. I got on that train with more people than I had ever seen in one place at one time, and the only soul I knew was the brother who had abandoned me in my hour of need."

Severus snorted. "And you had the grave misfortune to find _me_ as your first human contact outside of your family. Bloody hell, it's a testament to your courage that you didn't run screaming. I recall that train ride. I remember Lupin trying to get you to leave the compartment."

"Oh, yes!" And now her voice was angry, her eyes flashing. "My first taste of the amazing _friends_ I had heard about for four years was to watch them ridicule and belittle the only person who had spoken to me! The _amazing_ James Potter, whom all the girls loved, was a pompous git who tried to make himself look good by putting others down.

"What had you done to them? Even if it was something horrible, what cause did they have to call you on it in front of a stranger? And my brother, Remus the _Prefect_! He made no attempt to moderate their nastiness, then or any other time."

She was on a roll now, and had stopped playing with her hair to look at him with righteous anger as she ranted, her hands balled into fists in her lap. "That horrible day by the lake… he sat there with his nose in a book and pretended he didn't see what was going on. And when Black tried to kill you.…"

Her rage for the moment left her without the power of speech, but he did not interrupt. He only looked at her impassively, his face concealing the contrariety of emotions occurring within him.

"Do you know my brother is possibly the oldest living werewolf, who has been a werewolf for the longest period of time, who can honestly say that he has never bitten another human being? Remus would have been i _devastated /i _ to have killed you, even to have infected you… yet he forgave Black as though it was a simple prank!"

Severus still didn't speak. Her rage couldn't be more than his, in regards to that particular episode. It was still a frequent nightmare of his, all these years later—though admittedly it was now among the milder of the daemons of his past—the memory of that slavering beast, lunging at him, as he stood rooted to the spot in icy horror.

Her eyes became distant again, her voice softer. "We almost made up, you know, after Warrington attacked me. Remus stayed with me night and day for a whole week. I even felt grateful to James and Sirius. Remus told me they beat him up…"

Severus snorted again. "Within an inch of his life, would be more accurate. One of the few things they did that I could agree with."

She smirked wryly in agreement and continued, "They watched out for me after that, all of them. Then I did the werewolf essay for my Defence class. I found out what he was. I could have forgiven even that. But not the murder attempt, now that I knew the truth of it. Not the choice that he consciously made to forgive Sirius as though it was nothing.

"I was hurt that he chose to allow his friends to know what he was, and have the chance to stand by him, but not me. He trusted them; he didn't trust me. Their good opinion and friendship mattered more to him than mine, or even than his own conscience and sense of right and wrong.

"I don't know that man in there. The brother I had and adored died when I was eleven years old. It's like grieving for him all over again each time I have to face that person in there. I don't know how to reconcile the two. I don't want to go in there and have to watch him grieve over Black like a brother."

Severus was uncomfortable with this whole conversation in the extreme. He did not like the idea that he was perhaps a significant cause of their disagreements. Certainly Lupin had made his own choices, but the incidents which seemed to seal his fate with his sister highly involved himself.

"Miss Lupin, far be it from me to offer you advice on such a thing. I do not believe in redemption or forgiveness; I do not believe in most of the softer emotions, if it comes to that. Yet, I have to admit concern that you seem to wish to place all blame upon your brother for the actions of his friends.

"Normally, I would not attempt to disabuse you of that notion. I dislike him greatly, and he is, after all, a monster.

"However, in a rare moment of fairness, I must say that Black and I hated each other long before you arrived here at Hogwarts. I am certain that he felt his attempt on my life was fully justified, as Potter surely felt about the incident here by the lake.

"Hold your brother responsible for his own actions, as you wish. I would advise you not to hold him responsible for the actions of the other two. I doubt anything he could have said or done would have tempered their behaviour in the least."

She gave him a small, sad smile, but her tone was an attempt at teasing. "Why, Professor Snape, two bits of friendly advice and now a rare moment of fairness? All directed toward me, in the course of two decades? I fear that I may be a bad influence on you."

He smirked at her with a raised brow, but she continued more seriously, "Remus chose to remain friends with them in spite of their actions; to me that's the same as condoning them. His guilt is equal to theirs."

"As you wish, Miss Lupin," he added in a lighter tone himself. "You need not fear for my reputation as an evil bastard. I assure you that my Dark deeds so far outweigh any moments of relative decency, as to leave my reputation quite secure."

She laughed then, a light sound that lifted the mood as well. "Maybe you fool others into believing that. Not me."

They were both silent for a moment. He was surprised and uncomfortable at her declaration, and she was trying to formulate a question to which she had longed to know the answer for many years.

"What did you do to Warrington?" she blurted out at last.

He looked at her very seriously and shook his head lightly.

"Miss Lupin," he said gravely, "you absolutely must _not_ construe that act as any noble deed based upon chivalry or any other virtuous sensation. I do not condone what Warrington tried to do, but I am also not one to go out and exact vengeance upon perpetrators of such unpleasantness.

"What Warrington did shamed Slytherin House, because he got _caught_. Had he not been caught, had it even been a matter of your word against his, he would have gone unpunished. That he was a monster, I will not deny. In truth, he is more of a genuine monster than the werewolf. He deserved both what your brother's friends did to him, and what I did—but what I did was not motivated by any benevolent reason."

"Understood," she said simply. "I would still like to know what you did."

He smiled quite unpleasantly, then. It was a rather dark thing that gave her a slight chill, not unlike the wicked smile he had given her once before, when he had tried to entice her with a dangerous book on Dark Magic. His rich baritone voice was silky, and he seemed rather fond of the memory, in spite of his previous disclaimer.

"I waited until they had healed him at St. Mungo's. He was there for two weeks. When he was well, and fully conscious, Lucius and I went for a visit. Lucius was my lookout. I used a paralyzing charm on him, and castrated him. Slowly. With a fairly dull knife. I gave him a nice little potion beforehand, to ensure that he would not lose consciousness."

He shrugged. "It was merely a gesture, of course. St. Mungo's can regenerate all sorts of injuries like that without difficulty, as you know. No permanent physical damage was done. But I assure you, he remembers every moment of it to this day."

He expected her to be shocked or horrified that he was capable of such a thing. Instead she looked satisfied and approving, a grim look in her eyes that could have matched the one in his. She nodded. "That seems appropriate."

"Indeed."

He suddenly received a vague but urgent impression from his familiar. The Rat was somewhere on the grounds. Not near them, currently, but outside here somewhere. He stood briskly and offered her his hand.

"I believe it is time that we make an appearance at this event, lest we offend everyone by our absence more than with our presence. Perhaps you would care to accompany me?"

The question was out before he considered it, but he was not sorry he asked. She took his offered hand and stood. Her small, warm hand in his felt electrifying. For a moment she was standing close enough that he could smell the pleasant fragrance she wore, something floral but light. She looked at him, unguarded for an instant, and he unashamedly took advantage to stare into her eyes. He saw her spark of fascination there for him, and something caught within his chest.

Whatever of her 'teenaged crush' had faded over the last twenty years, enough still remained that she wanted to be with him now. It was an odd mixture of distrust, nervousness, curiosity, and his newly budding interest in her that swirled around inside him. Not unpleasant, but definitely unfamiliar. She was dangerous, this woman.

She smiled shyly at him, blushing pink, and nodded. "I would like that, Professor."

He tucked her hand deliberately into the crook of his arm, and she did not pull it away. He gave a small noise of impatience. "Miss Lupin, I am hardly your professor any longer. Is it your desire to make me feel old? I would not object to you calling me by my given name."

Her hand seemed to tremble against his arm, and when he glanced at her she was still blushing. What an unusual creature she was! He smirked at her silence and teased dryly, "Unless, perhaps, you do not recall my name?"

"I know your name… Severus." Her voice was soft. He had never heard his own name spoken in quite that way… he would have almost called it reverent.

He was not far off in that thought. She loved his name. The silky, sibilant sound of it as it glided off of her tongue. Severus. Severus. Severus. How often, how many millions of times had she said it, sometimes chanting it like a mantra as a child, or even in adulthood when she was especially wishing for news of him, as though by merely saying his name she could wish him into her life.

She chided herself mentally. _"Get a grip, Rowena Danae! He only invited you to accompany him to an event you both happen to be attending, and to use his given name. This is not a declaration of love, or even interest, you foolish girl!"_

Her voice was stronger and more confident, as she continued aloud, "Then you must call me Rowena. Merlin knows the name 'Lupin' is nearly as distasteful to me as it must be to you."

He moved his arm momentarily tighter against his side, so that he was squeezing her hand ever so slightly in acknowledgement. "Very well, Rowena. Though I do not imagine the name 'Lupin' is so distasteful to you, or else you would have abandoned it long ago."

She looked at him challengingly, and said, slightly aggressively, "What, precisely, do you mean by that?"

He appeared surprised at her tone and shrugged. "I meant no offence. I am quite aware of how these things work. Surely your parents could have found you a suitable match, even considering your bloodlines?"

She laughed again, the light sound almost a giggle. "Am I a brood mare, then, to be sold by my father to the highest bidder with the most suitable bloodline?"

He frowned at her and then shook his head.

"This, apparently, is something only certain of the pureblood families do. I move in different circles of acquaintances than you, Rowena. I know no pureblood married couple, except perhaps the Weasleys—and even that is a guess on my part—whose marriage was not purely an arranged affair by their parents."

She seemed to be surprised, but not offended, only interested. "Really? I didn't think anyone did that anymore. What if they don't like each other?"

He scoffed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Don't you think people who are married should at least like each other?" she asked with a laugh.

He shrugged. "I honestly have not had the desire or occasion to give it much thought."

"Well, why aren't you married?" She recalled the rumors her father had told her, years ago, about Devin Snape. Rowena had thought at the time that the man must have been Severus' father, but she wasn't certain. "Your parents didn't like each other? They didn't arrange something for you?"

His muscles tensed slightly under her hand, and she drew a fearful breath, concerned that she had offended him somehow. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, anxiously. "Never mind, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious."

He shook his head, more disturbed now that he had betrayed enough emotion for her to read him so quickly—he prided himself on his inscrutability.

"No, Rowena, it was a fair question. My parents are dead. My mother died the year I came to Hogwarts, my father the year I finished. My parents hated each other. I doubt not, though, that had he lived, my father would have paired me with an appropriate match, or disinherited me had I refused.

"As it is, I am the bane of the pureblood wizarding community. I am an eligible bachelor—which means nothing more or less than that I am pureblood and landed. It also doesn't matter that the property in question is little more than a derelict ruin.

"I am considered quite the catch in certain circles. That is a surprise, is it not? I have barely adult aged girls all the way through to forty-plus women trying to prostitute themselves to me in exchange for my name and my bloodline. I find it incredibly repulsive.

"If not for that, I would be of no interest to any of them. I have no illusions about who or what I am. I do, however, have enough self respect to refuse to be the prize of the 'highest bidder', as you say."

They had reached the castle doors, and he held the door for her. He stopped a moment before they entered, his face a closed mask.

"Rowena, I am the least welcome person here. I would not blame you if you wish to choose another companion. No one inside doubts my genuine loathing of Sirius Black, nor should they. My presence will be like a fresh knife to their grief. I will possibly be the target for unpleasantness. Grief often manifests in anger. You do not need to be exposed to that."

She bristled visibly, but tightened her grip on his arm. "Hasn't my sad tale of my brother taught you anything about me? I don't appreciate being protected by being pushed away. If you don't want me to accompany you, fine, but don't make false excuses. I wouldn't have accepted if I didn't want to be with you."

He couldn't help but offer an amused smile at her spirit. He nodded. "I would be pleased with your company. I just wanted you to know what you might be facing. Potter, especially, is likely to be distressed if he sees me."

"Well then, let's sit by ourselves somewhere so he doesn't have to see you much."

* * *

They did just that. The chairs and sofas were set up in such a way that many small groups could converse, just as easily as larger ones. Rowena saw the Potter boy with a bushy-haired girl Severus informed her was Hermione Granger, and also with one of the Weasley boys. Everyone—Moody, Dumbledore, Mrs Weasley, Remus, and even Severus—often looked at Harry with expressions of deep concern. Harry's eyes were red-rimmed, and he rubbed at them often. Remus was hardly less emotional, and they often stood together in sad silence.

Rowena and Severus tried mostly to stay out of the way. Harry kept casting scowling glances at Severus that were eerily reminiscent of James. At one point Remus came over to where they were sitting and introduced Harry to Rowena. The young man was polite, but subdued.

"Remus says you knew my dad… and Sirius," he said sullenly.

"Yes, I did. They were older than me, so I didn't know them very well. Once, though, your dad and Sirius beat up a boy who tried to assault me. If they hadn't showed up when they did, well, who knows what would have happened," Rowena said gently. She had decided to find something nice to say to the boy about his lost loved-ones, and that was the only thing she could think of.

Harry seemed to appreciate it, and actually smiled slightly at her, which brightened his face. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she said, smiling back.

"Their finest hour," Severus added with a bored air. Harry glared savagely at him before turning to walk away.

Severus and Rowena talked very little to anyone else after that. Both of them felt highly uncomfortable in this group of grieving people, when they themselves felt no grief.

The conversation wafted over them, though, and they had to listen to the reminiscing over many of the Marauder's adventures. Rowena and Severus conversed only lightly, usually to roll their eyes and discuss the alternate view of the stories they were hearing. Rowena was surprised to hear of some of the goings-on in the years before she came to Hogwarts, but it wasn't much different from what she had seen herself once she arrived.

Towards the end of the evening, Harry began asking questions about Sirius and his parents, which Remus answered, with the help of others to fill in the gaps. Suddenly Remus' voice trailed off, brokenly. Rowena glanced over at the table where they were sitting. Remus had buried his face in his hands, clearly overcome with grief. Rowena's mother sat next to him, rubbing his back gently and trying to comfort him. Molly seemed to be doing the same for Harry, who sat on Remus' other side.

Rowena looked up at Severus, her face an unguarded mask of sorrow and misery. She knew the pain Remus was feeling—it was the same pain she had felt when she had lost him, when he had rejected her. She set her teacup down and moved to rise. Severus suspected she was going to go to her brother and offer her comfort as well.

But then, Remus's broken voice was heard again, and she froze, listening. "The last of my brothers is dead. I didn't know I could feel so alone."

Severus watched Rowena, as her face went from compassion to anger and her own grief. She met his eyes again and he saw a flash of her own hatred for Sirius, and fresh pain at her brother's betrayal. Opening her mouth wordlessly for a moment, she shook her head, swallowed hard, and then found her voice.

"I need to go outside for a bit," she said in strangled tones.

In an instant she fled the room. Severus stood to follow her, and saw Remus looking at him from across the room, his attention caught by Rowena's sudden departure. They met each other's eyes, black ones glaring, brown ones still pained.

Snape sneered. "Good show, Lupin. You rejected her again, in favor of a dead man. I doubt even I could top that for cruelty. Do you follow her before the Death Eaters find her, or do I? Pettigrew is somewhere out there as we speak."

Remus paled and ran quickly out of the room after her. Severus hesitated a moment, but then followed. Pettigrew was indeed out there, and from the impressions he was receiving from his familiar, the Rat was tailing her already.

She was walking briskly across the lawns towards the gates to Hogsmeade. Remus was following her at a sprint. She was in plain sight, and Wormtail was not, having detoured away from the area due to the presence of a predatory creature. Severus slowed his pace to allow the siblings their conversation in semi-privacy.

"Rowena, wait!" Remus called after her.

To the surprise of both men, she stopped and turned. Tears were running down her face, but she held her chin proudly as she turned to her brother. Again, in the soft light of dusk, Severus was struck by their resemblance. How had he not realised they were siblings in school?

"I am going home, Remus. I am sorry for your loss," she said thickly, and then her voice broke, so that her next words were difficult to understand between stifled sobs. "I know first-hand the pain of losing a brother. You have my deepest sympathies."

"Rowena… honey… 'Wena, please… don't be like this," he reached a gentle hand out to stroke the tears away from her face. "I'm so sorry. I can't change my past decisions. I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was keeping you safe. You are my sister… I love you. I don't want us to be like this anymore. I miss you. Can't we fix this? Can't you forgive me?"

She did not move away when he touched her, but she did not soften towards him, either. "I don't know how, Remus. You abandoned me when I needed you most. I don't know how to trust you again, or how to stop being hurt and angry. Maybe it will just take time. Right now, I really don't want to talk to you anymore today."

He sighed. "Let me at least take you home. You shouldn't be by yourself. It's not safe."

"I'm only walking to Hogsmeade to Apparate home. I hardly need an escort. You have friends inside. It seems to me that Potter is grieving particularly hard. He needs you. I don't."

"Let me get someone else to walk with you if you can't stand to be with me," he said, more urgently. "Please. Alastor or Kingsley would do it. It's really not safe for anyone to be alone right now, honestly."

Severus had continued walking toward them, slowly, and now decided to make his presence known. He thought he could detect a hint of stubborn defiance in the set of her jaw, which suggested to him that she was about to leave, alone. With Pettigrew on the prowl, it really wasn't safe for her to travel unescorted, even that short distance.

"I will take her home, Lupin. Get back inside and rejoin your pity-party," he said sarcastically.

Remus rounded on him, scowling. His sorrow at hurting his sister and grief at the still-raw death of his friend had worn his temper to a very short fuse. "I didn't think this discussion included you, Severus. Why should I trust you to take her home?"

But Severus had had enough of this as well. Listening to an entire room full of people canonise the _'late-great-Black'_ for hours on end, as though he had been some sort of super-hero, had grated on his nerves.

"Because, Lupin," he said with a sneering drawl, "thanks entirely to your own actions, your beloved sister would far prefer _my_ companionship to yours."

Severus stepped forward so he was almost toe to toe with the other man, glaring savagely. He savoured every word vindictively. "That must really eat at you, doesn't it, Lupin? You must now rely on _me_ to assure her safety? And you have no one but yourself to blame."

He would have continued. He longed to make some comment on how sweet the revenge was, that it was Lupin's own sister who was allowing Severus to achieve some small vengeance upon him. But just then a soft hand gently touched his arm, and he looked down into large, tear-bright eyes.

"Don't—Severus… please don't," she said imploringly. "Will you walk me home now?"

He realised then that he could not hurt Remus Lupin without hurting her as well. Perhaps the vengeance would not be so complete, after all. It certainly felt less urgent to extract revenge than to see her safely home. Unconsciously, he gently placed his free hand over the fingers she had tucked through his arm. He nodded to her and turned back to Remus.

"Goodnight, Lupin," he said decisively.

Rowena slipped her hand out of his arm again, and to the surprise of both men, she briefly went to Remus and hugged him. Her brother pulled her into a crushing embrace. For a moment their identically coloured hair blended one head to the next so that, if not for the graying streaks in his, it might have been hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Then she stepped away and looked at him.

"I am sorry for your loss, Remus."

Turning back to Severus, she took his arm more firmly than she had before, and they began to walk away. Remus didn't say anything more, and she didn't look back. He watched her leave, though, with more hopefulness that they might mend their rift than he had held in many years. There was also a grudging sense of happiness for her. She really had liked Severus all those years ago—a sensation which apparently hadn't faded in the intervening ones. Snape was already displaying more kindness and concern toward her than Remus had ever seen him have for anyone else.

* * *

Once they reached her flat, Severus accompanied her inside. He watched her perform her search, but noticed she did not seem quite as panicked as she was the first time he had observed the ritual.

He waited for her to finish. When she had returned, he raised a questioning brow. She gave him a small, sad smile and shrugged.

"After you were here the last time, I decided that I needed to find a different method to help me not be afraid of my own flat. So, I went to Diagon Alley and got a familiar. It took all afternoon to find the right one. I didn't realise it was such a process. It was worse than buying my wand.

"Anyway, she has the run of my flat. I know through our connection that no one is here.

"I still do the search, but it's more habit than anything else. I would introduce you to her… I named her Vixen… but she's nervous around strangers. She's hiding under my bed," she said, rambling on in a voice that was just this side of controlled hysteria.

He was on the point of asking what sort of creature her familiar was, when he caught the tone of her voice and realised she was fighting valiantly not to weep. Her eyes were over-bright and she was blinking rapidly.

He was completely out of his element—he had no skill in being a 'comforting presence' to another human being!

"Rowena, will you be all right? Should I make you some tea or a Dreamless Sleep potion?"

She shook her head and tried to smile again, but the tears started to flow and it was more a pained grimace. "No, Severus. I'm okay. I think I would rather just be alone now."

He looked at her doubtfully, and led her to the couch where she sat down heavily. "I do not think you should be alone. I will stay until you are able to rest."

She summoned her handkerchief and cried, too overwhelmed with emotion to argue with him. Severus, in the need to do _something_, searched her kitchen for some basic potion ingredients and brewed in silence, watching her apprehensively. When at last she had stopped crying, he brought her a small cup, which was steaming gently.

She looked up at him, embarrassed, and dried her face. "I'm sorry. I think I just forgot until tonight how close we used to be, how much it hurt to have him reject me, and how much I still miss him, even after everything."

"Do not apologise. Prepare for bed and then drink this—it isn't quite a Dreamless Sleep potion; you have no Asphodel," he said in matter-of-fact tones that were almost scolding, as though he could not believe a wizarding home would have no Asphodel. "It will help you sleep nonetheless."

She went into her room and changed into her pajamas—long plum-colored satin robes that were loose, flowing, and very modest. She came back out and drank the potion, obediently. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

It was an odd sensation to be thanked so sincerely for doing such a simple thing. He merely nodded. "I will leave you now. The potion will act quickly, you should go straight to bed."

"I will. Goodnight, Severus. Thank you. It was much easier to get through today than I had expected. I was very glad for your company."

"It was no hardship, Rowena. Goodnight."

With a loud 'crack' of Apparition, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4: New Daily Routines

This is a fanfiction based in JKR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a _lot_ of help with this story!

**Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.**

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* * *

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Chapter 4: New Daily Routines

* * *

Nearly a month had passed, and Rowena had quickly fallen into a pleasant routine. She was no longer the last person to leave her lab at the Ministry. When her time was over she eagerly Apparated home, grabbed a bite of supper, and then Portkeyed to her Hogwarts lab. Albus even insisted on paying her for her time there, which felt like robbery to her. For the first time in her memory, she had full freedom in her research, and she felt like a child in a sweet shop.

She continued her volunteer work at St. Mungo's, but found that she was now always accompanied on her visits. It was apparent to her that Dumbledore had assigned people to guard her, without wanting her to realise she was being guarded. Sometimes it was Minerva, occasionally Filius, and once it was even Albus himself. Most frequently, Mrs Weasley came with her. Molly seemed to find that she enjoyed it almost as much as Rowena did, now that her own children were nearly grown.

Rowena was accustomed to going to St. Mungo's several times a week, but she felt as though she was pulling her escorts from more important duties, so she gradually forced herself to cut back to only Saturdays. She couldn't bear to give up the work entirely.

On a personal level, her social life had always been nearly non-existent. It seemed to go in phases, and currently she seemed to be experiencing a suspicious burst of popularity. A young man named Orion Blaize was currently courting her attentions, and she had consented to go out with him a few times. She was wary—he had been introduced to her by Narcissa Malfoy, which immediately made his intentions suspect.

However, he was pleasant and polite, and she was not a total recluse. She was careful to only meet with him in very public places, so the occasional diversion of dinner, dancing or a visit to the theater was enjoyable enough—or at least not unwelcome. Unfortunately, she was far more naïve than she liked to believe herself to be, so she was completely oblivious to the disguised (or often invisible) Order members who observed and protected her on these occasions as well. Often Severus was the guard, much to his distaste.

He was irritated with himself for feeling what could only be considered jealousy. Blaize was two years younger than he, and considered handsome by Narcissa and Bellatrix. He was tall, muscularly built, had perfect teeth displayed to advantage when he smiled, which he did easily and often, and had an easy-going temperament. Of course, he was also a Death Eater.

Severus' jaw ached from clenching it so tightly when he watched them dance, though he didn't fail to notice that she kept a significant distance between them for even the slowest of dances. Still, she seemed relaxed, smiling and laughing with Blaize as they conversed, and Severus found himself wishing to smash the other man's perfect nose.

* * *

Severus had kept his distance from her since the night of Black's memorial. He occasionally stopped by her lab to inquire if she needed anything, or to bring notes and spells for her to research—often at Albus' request, the cagey old Meddler!

They didn't play chess again, or even converse on anything but work-related topics. He reverted to calling her 'Miss Lupin', and so she addressed him in kind. It was as though he was trying to avoid anything like friendship with her.

She was gradually forming new opinions of him, replacing childhood fantasies and silliness with honest assessments. And yet she couldn't really find that there were often any conflicts between the two.

His taste in background music complimented hers—she could hear it through the adjoining door slightly, even when it was closed. Occasionally she wouldn't even turn hers on, to listen to his, and suspected that he sometimes did the same. A Silencing Charm over the door would have prevented any sound from passing between the labs, of course. However, she did not use one and neither did he.

She didn't know why _he_ didn't, but she found the muffled noises of him moving about in his lab companionable and comforting. It gave her the sensation of isolation and privacy as she worked, yet prevented her from feeling lonely. She was quite content.

A knock on her lab door roused her from some particularly complex equations, which she set aside with a sigh.

"Come in."

It was Severus, and he had a small stack of papers in his hand.

"Albus sent me with these; they are more Dark spells from some of his Auror contacts. Ones that Fudge won't send to your lab at the Ministry—he doesn't wish to cause 'panic' that these spells exist. He would much rather allow them to exist unhindered and secret," he said sardonically, and Rowena rolled her eyes knowingly.

"Yes, that sounds like the pompous windbag I've come to know and despise," she said with a wry smile. She took the papers and began to glance through them. Some of the names were quite frightful indeed. 'Disemboweling Hex', 'Flaying Charm', and 'Lava Curse', just to name a few.

She went to the wall of rat cages and brought a full one out to her worktable.

"Do you have time to help me for a few minutes?" she asked distractedly, still reading through the notes. "Would you show me these spells? It helps a great deal if I can see them performed properly. It speeds my research to understand them more fully. I'll figure it out eventually from the notes, but it would be easier to see them demonstrated."

Severus frowned warily at her, instantly on his guard. He didn't know quite how to take the question. Legally, he should not know how to perform these. The only reason he would know them is if he were a Death Eater, or if he had been exposed to their effects himself, as an Auror might be. He did not know what she knew about his past or present, and was loath to give away his position.

"Why would I know how to perform these spells, Miss Lupin? I think perhaps you are either insulting me or complimenting me. It is likely I deserve neither," he said with a sneer.

She gave him an exasperated look and pulled out her wand. At first he thought she might be intending to try the spells herself—very unwise, as it would leave record of their casting in her wand, the legalities of which would be questionable even for 'research' purposes. But then, to his surprise, she laid her wand on the table and withdrew another from her sleeve.

"Would you like to use my Dark wand, Professor, or would you prefer your own? Surely you don't think I practice my research spells with a traceable wand, do you?

"Does it make things easier for you if I tell you that I have known for years that you were a Death Eater, and turned spy for Dumbledore before Harry Potter was born?"

He moved forward menacingly and towered over her, attempting to intimidate her by aggressively invading her personal space. Glaring down at her, he purposefully emphasised the height difference. His voice was harsh and angry, and his scowl was truly frightful.

"No, Miss Lupin. That makes things altogether more difficult. What makes you think that I was a Death Eater? If you really believe that, how could you possibly imagine that I no longer am one? No one leaves the Dark Lord's service alive, surely you know that?"

She did not flinch, though the sudden animosity radiated from him like heat from a fire. Tilting her head back at an uncomfortable angle, she refused to drop his gaze or allow him to intimidate her. Her heart was pounding madly inside her chest, which made it far more challenging to maintain her Occlumency, but she was determined not to back down.

"You forget, Professor, that I was in school with you," she said determinedly. "You offered me that book in my second year. I worked with my dad every summer and saw lots of Death Eaters and their victims. I treated Wilkes the summer before my seventh year. He all but told me you were Death Eater, and showed me his own Dark Mark. So, years ago, I had a strong suspicion that you had joined them."

He continued to glare down at her angrily, but said nothing. It was as though the pitiless black eyes were drawing the truth from her—truth she would have told him willingly in any case. She swallowed nervously, but forced herself to continue.

"I was able to find out about Dumbledore's testimony on your behalf, from contacts at the Ministry," she said, swallowing nervously. She didn't want to betray Elizabeth's confidence even all these years later.

"Dumbledore said you turned spy back then. Logically, it would follow that you would have stepped into that role again now—I think it would be very useful, and Dumbledore doesn't seem to be the kind of person to give up a useful tool," she said, somewhat bitterly.

It didn't take the sudden wavering of her Occlumency to reveal that she didn't particularly agree with the Headmaster's methods—or at least what she thought she knew of them.

"I never thought you were _really_ one of them before," she said quietly, "so it was no great difficulty for me to believe you'd left them."

She couldn't do it. He had not moved a muscle or betrayed any reaction to what she said, but it was impossible for her to continue to stare up into those eyes. She turned back to the notes, using them as an excuse to turn away from him—in a manner that she hoped seemed casual rather than retreating.

"Now, then. If we're done rehashing your past, which seems to have no real bearing on the issue at hand, I would like to get to work. Because of your experience, it's logical for me to assume you know how to perform these spells. If you would be so kind as to demonstrate them?"

He was even angrier now, and grabbed her arm harshly, forcing her to turn back around to face him. A faint shudder passed through her, though it was less from fear than from the strange warmth that washed over her at his proximity, towering rage notwithstanding.

His voice was a dangerously smooth, even though he was plainly furious. "What do you know of the matter, Miss Lupin? Do you fancy me redeemed? You never thought I was one of them in truth? You couldn't be more wrong."

He thrust her away from him, causing her to stumble against her workbench. "I thought you were more rational than that. I've never heard of anything more ridiculous! Few people believe what you seem to take on faith from mere hearsay and rumour. Only Dumbledore believes me wholly reformed, and he is a hopeless idealist. The rest view me as a dangerous ally who could turn on them at any moment when it appears to my best advantage to do so. You would do well to be wary of me!"

With that, he pulled his wand and began carelessly and effortlessly performing the hexes and curses listed in the notes. He did them with the practiced ease and grace of familiarity, one after the other without pause.

He had avoided looking at her since he had thrust her away. After several long minutes of slaughtering the lab rats in his angry demonstration, he risked a sideways glance. He expected to see her shocked or horrified at this display of the Dark spells, and the callous cruelty that was their nature—or the ease in which he wielded them. Instead, she was calmly seated near the desk, rapidly scribbling notes on a clipboard. She looked up at him when he stopped his display.

"Are you feeling better now?" she asked, as though he was a child who had just completed a tantrum. "You can save your 'I'm an evil demon' act for my brother and Alastor Moody. They might believe it. I don't. Rational or not, I trust my own intuition on this matter, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind. I am not afraid of you."

He sneered at her, but inwardly he was disturbed greatly by this display of misplaced confidence. "Then you are far more naïve than I had previously surmised—an impressive accomplishment. I would not have thought you to practise willful self-deception, Lupin, but suit yourself.

"You were terrified to rely upon your instincts when it was a simple matter of variable potions ingredients, yet you insist upon doing so in this instance, with far less data to support your hypothesis. This is most unwise. You have been warned. Good day." He turned on his heel and left with an angry swish of robes.

* * *

On Thursday evening, Rowena forgot a reference book in her Ministry lab, which she wanted at Hogwarts. After eating supper in her flat, she Apparated back to the Ministry.

This variation in her new routine caused her to find dark-cloaked, white-masked figures in the lab, tearing it to bits, with explosions going off everywhere as the intruders tried to break the wards on her cabinets and drawers. Her gasp of terror caused them to whirl around and level wands at her with a variety of curses and hexes. Fortunately, she had already reached her disk and Portkeyed to her lab at Hogwarts, just as she was losing consciousness.

She woke in soft, unfamiliar bed, in an equally unfamiliar, brightly-lit room, with shadowy figures all around her. Blinking against the fresh pain in her head caused by the lighting, she tried to sit up.

A firm but surprisingly gentle hand pressed upon her shoulder, and a familiar deep voice spoke. "Do not try to rise, Miss Lupin. You have sustained a concussion and some rather serious injuries. You are safe here."

Her eyes gradually regained focus to see Severus peering down at her. His piercing gaze and the pain in her head made her realise that she was not up to any standard of Occlumency. She quickly looked away.

Instead she found Albus Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and her brother hovering about. Albus was smiling in his cheerfully calm manner, while Pomfrey bustled here and there with anxious energy. Remus appeared both angry and worried.

"What happened?" Her voice sounded far off and strange, as though her ears had been stuffed with cotton.

"Death Eaters raided your lab. Somehow, we weren't _informed_ of the raid, and couldn't warn you. You could have been killed! Our information gathering methods seem to be _flawed_," said Remus, sarcasm and bitterness heavy in every word. Obviously he blamed Severus for the attack. Anger and sarcasm did not suit the more mild-mannered of the two Lupins. His friends might not have recognised him if they saw him at that moment.

"Remus, get out," she said wearily.

"No," he replied firmly.

"Remus, get out _now_. I mean it. I can't deal with you right now." Her head had started to pound, but she wasn't willing to give an inch on this. She was unwilling to listen to Remus dig at Severus, certain that at any moment Severus would be goaded into sniping back.

Surprisingly, Severus moved toward the door instead. "No, Miss Lupin. You should have your family present. I believe your parents are on their way." He scowled darkly at Remus before returning his gaze to her.

He didn't know why it mattered to him. After all, a few days ago he had tried very hard to convince her that he was not 'reformed' in any sense. However, he didn't want her opinion of him tarnished in this way—or for her to believe he would have deliberately allowed something like this.

"I had no knowledge of this attempt on your lab, though it does not surprise me. I believe they expected it to be empty so they would have time to search thoroughly."

She nodded at him in apparent acceptance of the information, though the movement made her wince. He was satisfied, and made a very slight bow before turning to leave.

Albus spoke up then. "Wait, Severus. We need to organise the party that will go and salvage what we can from her lab and flat. It is likely they will try there next, Rowena. We will be giving you lodgings here at Hogwarts. We can speak of that when you are well. Right now, I need you to tell us what we should try to salvage, and the counter charms to get to the material."

He smiled merrily in spite of the gravity of the situation, and his eyes twinkled. "It seems that the thieves were completely unsuccessful in their raid. Your approach aborted their search, and your numerous protections were quite effective. I will send Remus and Severus as part of the salvage team."

"No!" Rowena said, nearly frantic. "Not Professor Snape—not my flat. Let Remus go. My friend Elizabeth. My mother. Mrs Weasley." She was blushing deeply, and Dumbledore looked at her knowingly.

Severus was on the point of working himself up to be angry that she didn't trust him, or perhaps force himself to be glad that she had finally decided _not_ to trust him, when he remembered the photo in her flat with his picture in it. Was it possible there were others? He was newly unsettled at the idea that he had been some sort of object of fascination to this woman, but decided now was not the time to explore the subject.

"Of course, Rowena," said Albus. "I'll ask Molly to come and see you, when your mother arrives. I would like you to be attended while you are here. Madam Pomfrey is an excellent Matron, but she is a non-combatant. I don't expect danger in our own hospital wing, but I can't be certain."

"I'll stay with her," said Remus.

"No. If you stay, I'm leaving, if I have to crawl out of here on my hands and knees," she said stubbornly. "I am not in the mood to deal with you right now, Remus. Another time, maybe, but not now. I don't want you here."

Severus looked between the two scowling Lupins, and then silently sat down in a chair near the bed. He conjured a large book, which he immediately began to read. It required a great deal of self-restraint not to cast a gloating smirk at the werewolf. For whatever reason, his beloved little sister preferred his, Severus', presence at her bedside to his own.

"No way! I'm not leaving her alone with _him_," Remus said again, realising at once what Snape intended. "Albus, you trust him, so I trust him… but not this far! If he'd been doing his job properly, she wouldn't be here! You don't understand…."

"Remus, I understand a vast deal more than you know. At present, I understand Rowena is a grown adult who has been injured, and should not be unduly stressed. She has requested you leave, and I have things to do as well. I'm sure Severus can provide for her safety, and he is not prone to chat, so she will get the rest she needs. Come now, time to go."

Rowena and Severus both snorted at the thought of Severus being 'prone to chat', and then met each other's eyes with similar wry glances. Remus allowed himself to be angrily led out the door, with one more threatening glare cast at Snape. Then the door closed, and they were gone.

"What really happened?" she asked at once.

"I am not supposed to 'chat', Miss Lupin," Severus stated, dryly.

"How many were there? I only saw three. What happened to my lab?" she persisted.

He sighed, closing his book with a finger holding his page. She obviously would not rest until she had answers, so he summarised as briefly as he could.

"Three is enough, you were lucky to reach your Portkey alive. You apparently experienced first-hand some of the curses I brought to you last week, including the Flaying Charm. Madam Pomfrey has restored the skin to your arm quite well, though I suggested the use of dittany. It appears to have been effective, you should have no scarring from that particular curse. You lost a lot of blood, however, and have an admirable concussion. You will be consuming a variety of my potions for the next several days at least.

"As Albus said, nothing of value seems to have been stolen. However, it will not be safe for you to return there. And, I believe, you will have to end your dalliance with Orion Blaize." He refused to examine the reason behind his sense of satisfaction with the last statement.

She snorted humourlessly, though she groaned in pain at the effort. Her abdomen was sore as though she had experienced major surgery.

"Oh yes," he added, "the Disemboweling Hex was used as well, though not to complete effect. You are quite fortunate to be here."

His thoughts trailed off to uncomfortable recollections. He had heard the soft sound of her falling to the floor when she arrived at her lab. Not that he had been listening intentionally for her, of course.

Her rational and analytical nature led her to be quite predictable in her routines, so his curiosity had been roused when she was late. It was merely the natural concern of one intellectual person not wanting to lose the talents and skills of another. There was nothing more to it than that. Or so he heroically strove to convince himself.

Somehow, though, as Poppy worked on her, his mind had traveled the circuitous path of 'what if'.

What if he had been listening to music at that moment and had not heard her arrival? It was fortunate that he had decided he was not in the mood to listen to anything.

What if he had not been in his own lab at the time? It was quite serendipitous that he had work he needed to do.

What if he had not found her? It was a stroke of good luck that the adjoining door between their labs was, for some reason, slightly ajar.

He had been stunned to see her there on the floor—pale, covered in blood, barely breathing.

A series of fortunate chances allowed him to be in the right place at the right time. He had _not_ been worried about her. He had _not_ been deliberately listening for her.

Eventually, he would believe the lie himself.

Surprisingly, the thing that upset her the most, which she responded to with the most vehemence, was the thing that concerned him the least in the matter.

"I am not engaging in a 'dalliance' with anyone, least of all Blaize." She turned to her side so she could face him, awkwardly leaning her chin on one arm. "He is merely one more in a long line of 'nice young men' that Narcissa Malfoy insists on throwing my way. She's trying to get me to research some very questionable spells for her, and seems to think that by introducing me to her brand of 'acceptable suitors', she can soften me up.

"He's a nice enough person, and I've appreciated the diversion. But it's no loss not to see him anymore. What does he have to do with this?"

Something primitive was roused inside of him. He felt… _possessive_? He definitely received some sort of pleasant sensation at her avowal of her disinterest in Blaize.

"Orion Blaize is a Death Eater. He's been set to try to win your affections to gain access to your research. Apparently tonight's attack occurred because the Dark Lord is impatient with his progress. I would not be surprised if he was among those who were raiding your lab."

And then, with an abrupt change of subject, he asked, "Why aren't you married, Miss Lupin? A husband would at least spare you from that particular brand of attempted manipulation."

He was surprised at the question himself, but now he had voiced it, he found himself interested in her answer. She had evaded the subject when he brought it up on the day of the Memorial.

"Why aren't you, Professor Snape?" she retorted archly, swiftly turning the subject back to him.

He smirked. "Always a question for a question with you! I believe we discussed this before? All right. I am married, then, to my work, and always have been. The Dark Lord is amused and pleased that I have no outside distractions, as he feels it makes my work more pure. And so, now your turn to answer."

She had no idea why he would answer her so honestly just now. Perhaps he was humouring her in light of her injuries, or maybe he thought she wouldn't remember the conversation later, due to the injury to her head. Whatever his reasoning was, she felt that he deserved honesty in return.

"I've had dated some, here and there. My experience with Warrington has left me distrustful, but I'm not a total recluse. Some of the blokes at the Ministry are nice enough. Narcissa is always sending someone my way. But in the end, they've all turned out to be either ignorant or obnoxious—sometimes both. I can't abide stupid men. I've spent my life comparing them all to my ideal of the intelligent man. They always fall hopelessly short. So…" She shrugged.

"I am married to my work as well."

This disturbed him yet again. The implication that _he_ was that 'ideal', by which she compared all other men, was not lost on him. He was uncomfortable with that role in the extreme. On the other hand, that someone had thought this much of him, this _well_ of him, for so many years, was not altogether unpleasant. It was perhaps even…flattering?

Admittedly, she was naïve and destined for pain if she persisted in viewing him in such a favourable light. Yet it stirred a feeling of protectiveness within him which he could not wholly explain. He would not deliberately hurt her, nor allow her feelings for him to cause her pain, if he could at all help it.

By way of keeping that promise to himself, he returned to his book.

"You should sleep, Miss Lupin. At least your work cannot fall short of your expectations or leave you disappointed. That is as safe a marriage as anyone can hope to make. Sleep. You will be safe here. I will not leave you."

She smiled softly to herself. He had not rejected her couched declaration, though he characteristically cautioned her against it. Still, she was comforted by his presence, and slept.

* * *

A week passed before she was well enough to leave the ward. Her mother stayed with her often, her father occasionally, and when neither of them was available, Severus stayed with her. He greeted her parents with cool but polished politeness, which would have astonished any of his students.

He was not warm or friendly towards Rowena. In fact, he often sat reading and saying nothing the whole time he was with her. Yet he never failed to be there. He did seem cool and distant, more so even than usual, as though he had decided to try to make her dislike him. The thought amused her. He could hardly choose a more hopeless endeavour.

When she was at last well enough to leave the hospital wing, Dumbledore visited her to discuss what had happened and what he intended to do about it. Severus was in the room, studiously absorbed in his book. He made no move to leave when Albus arrived.

"Rowena, I'm glad to see you well. I'm afraid your safety is still very much in question right now."

With a wave of his wand, Albus conjured a tea service and poured them each a cup.

She frowned. "I don't really understand how I got mixed up in all this. I'm only a scientist, and not a very well known one at that. How did I even get on You-Know-Who's 'radar', so to speak? Surely I'm too insignificant for him to bother with?"

Albus shook his head and replied gravely, "You underestimate the value of knowledge, Rowena. Knowledge is power, and Voldemort desires power in all its forms." The Headmaster tactfully pretended to ignore her slight spill of tea when she cringed at the sound of the name.

"Your recent and rapid success at countering many of his newest spells has irritated him. He has at least one spy in the Ministry who has informed him that you have been set the task to strengthen the wards of Azkaban. He wants all of his Death Eaters freed. So, he assigned some of those who are at liberty the task to hinder or steal your research, by whatever means necessary. One of these was Mr Blaize.

"Unfortunately for him, he has so far failed in his attempts. Voldemort hopes to maintain secrecy, but no doubt your empty lab seemed a very great temptation as a more expeditious way to gain that information. As soon as he learned of its failure, he assigned yet another of his Death Eaters to work from a different direction. We must assume that he will not rest until he has breached Azkaban."

She absorbed this information slowly, analytically, and then nodded.

"So what must I do? I won't abandon my research—it needs to be done. What can I do?"

Her eyes were somewhat distant as she stared into her teacup, giving the subject her full thought and attention.

"Who has been sent to stop me now?" she asked, and then knew the answer before it was spoken. He was scowling darkly, but met her eyes as he looked up from his book and gave the slightest of nods.

"I see…" she said, still contemplative. Now she had a new concern, which was far greater than any concern over her own safety. She felt perfectly confident that she was completely safe here at Hogwarts.

"Haven't you just put Professor Snape at great risk, by revealing this to me? If he's unsuccessful in his instructions, won't his role be exposed?"

Dumbledore had been silently watching her, remembering her well enough from school to know that she preferred to work things through on her own rather than have them handed to her.

Severus, however, snorted in disgust and irritation. "You need not worry about me, Miss Lupin. I assure you I can look after myself. We are currently talking about how to save your skin without losing your necessary research. My role is not open for discussion."

Albus raised a hand then, seeing Rowena rising to anger, and spoke firmly but kindly. "We are not going to allow either of you to be in danger if we can help it. Rowena, I would like you to officially agree to live at Hogwarts. You could continue your research as you have been; though to meet Ministry requirements, you would have to teach, at least part time.

"I was thinking of a Theory and Research class—if we made this available only to fourth years and above, the teaching load would not interfere too much with your research time, and would meet the letter of the law. Students below fourth year wouldn't have enough foundation to fully benefit from that sort of instruction, so there's no suspicion to be roused by not offering it to all students."

Rowena laughed then, a sound of nervous release as she shrugged. "How on earth can you expect me to teach? I have no idea how! I'm a research scientist, Professor, and not very adept at public speaking."

Severus snorted at this and gave her a wry glance. "It is not difficult, Miss Lupin. You must simply resign yourself to the fact that the students do not wish to learn what you are teaching. If you actually allow yourself to be concerned with their educational progress, you will only become bitter and disillusioned."

She grinned up at him and raised her brows in doubt. "You are very fortunate that you have escaped such a fate, then," she said with the merest hint of a laugh in her voice. "I will keep that in mind, Professor, thank you."

One expressive black brow arched disdainfully. "Mock me all you like. You will soon see for yourself. The only reward to teaching is freedom of research. Not one student in a thousand is genuinely interested in their own education."

"Severus, please. Not everyone is as cynical about teaching as you, my friend. Let's not poison the well before she even begins," Albus said with a twinkle and a smile.

Rowena, however, couldn't let go of the doubt that still nagged at her. "Professor Dumbledore, if Professor Snape was set to stop my research, and now I will be effectively evading capture, torture, murder, whatever they intended for me, won't he be suspect?" She looked at Severus as well as she asked this, genuinely concerned.

Severus stood and leaned against the wall, looking out the window. "I already told you not to concern yourself with this, Miss Lupin. I will not discuss it further," he said firmly.

Albus chided him gently, "Severus, she is asking a reasonable question. She is not prying, and has a right to be concerned."

The Headmaster turned to address her. "We are all friends and equals here, Rowena. You must call me Albus. Over the past month, since you started working with us in the evenings, we have been deliberately spreading rumours that I have been attempting to lure you away from Cornelius.

"It is our hope that Voldemort will believe… well, what happened—that my operatives simply moved more quickly than his. No doubt he will be displeased, but he rarely disposes of valuable followers over my actions."

He spoke confidently, but his lined face betrayed his own worry. She could see nothing of Severus but his rigid, black-clad back as he stared out the window.

Rowena stood and paced in the room. "Displeased? Rarely? Prof… Albus, my father is one of the Chief Healers at St. Mungo's. I have a pretty good idea what You-Know-Who does to his followers when he's 'displeased', and how 'rarely' he kills his own people in rage. I've watched my father bring many of them back from the brink of death myself.

"You can't expect me to be happy that my life was saved at the risk of someone else's? Not when I know what he likely faces when he returns there? Well, okay, I don't know—I can't possibly truly imagine the whole of it, I'm sure. But I know enough, and it's more than I'd like to know, I assure you."

Severus leaned one shoulder against the window so that he could turn to look at her. While he was capable of concealing his thoughts and emotions when it suited him, he was currently regarding her with an expression of thinly veiled disbelief. With the exception of Albus, no one cared to think about what went on when he faced the Dark Lord. They merely accepted that he took 'risks' and lived in the bliss of ignorance as to what that truly entailed.

It was an odd experience to see someone so distressed over some unknown, possible (admittedly likely) future consequence that he would receive for his actions. Yet again, he was finding it not an unpleasant sensation, but still an unwelcome one.

His voice broke into her ranting, firm enough to halt her pacing. "Miss Lupin! I thank you for your concern. It is unneeded and unwanted. This is the role of a spy, or were you vague on that definition? This portion of the discussion is over."

She rounded on him, glaring angrily. He would have laughed if he could remember how. She was more than half a foot shorter than he was, and yet faced him down as though she would duel with him in an instant, her small chin jutting defiantly.

"This discussion is most certainly not over," she said stubbornly. "I want information and options. I won't knowingly send someone to danger after saving my life. I want to know what we can give him to appease him without jeopardising the bigger picture. Now, either be helpful or belt it."

Albus coughed violently into his teacup as though he had just choked back a laugh. Severus, however, scowled even more darkly at this mere slip of a woman who dared to speak to him in such a way.

"_We_ can give him nothing, Miss Lupin," he said dangerously, "as I am the only one who actually has access to him. I am quite capable of dealing with the situation. I am not a Gryffindor, you forget. Slytherins do not throw their lives away needlessly. All you need to know is that this is _my_ job, and you need to leave me to it."

She turned her back on Severus, and instead appealed to Dumbledore.

"I have lots of spells in the research stages, Albus. Many of them aren't completed. But what if Professor Snape was to have some of the notes to be able to provide to You-Know-Who, when he has to go? I can sort through the spells that are the least complete, or ones that I can easily formulate new counters for—things that wouldn't matter at all in the long run. But wouldn't that be a reasonable 'good faith' gesture for Professor Snape to have? It might save him some… trouble… at the very least?"

Albus smiled at her, his eyes dancing in amusement. He had never seen anyone besides himself stand up to Severus so stubbornly, in friendship. He suspected it would do the boy good to have a little fresh irritation in his life. An irritation in the form of a bright young woman might be just the thing. He nodded to her, and then waved his hands in a gesture of dismissal.

"Splendid idea, Rowena. Severus, take her to her rooms. Show her around. I don't think she has gone anywhere in the castle but her lab during the time she's been here so far. Take whatever notes she gives you for the next time you have to face Tom." He saw Rowena's look of confusion, and smiled sadly. "Lord Voldemort was my student years ago, Rowena. His true name is Tom Riddle."

Rowena shuddered again at the easy way Albus threw the name about, but nodded obediently at the instructions and turned to follow Severus. He wore his darkest glare and sneered unpleasantly, though he still held the door open for her.

"It appears you have won this round, Miss Lupin. Do not think it will happen again," he said darkly.

She, on the other hand, decided to goad him further. She was at least as irritated with him as he was with her, but met his sneering anger with a playful demeanor and a cheerful voice.

"Oh, Professor Snape, I beg you not to underestimate me. I can be quite determined, and never give up once I've set my mind to a goal."

He scoffed at her and led the way down the hall. "And I had thought you were a rational creature. You were a Ravenclaw, after all. With an attitude like that, you might have been better in Gryffindor." He managed to make the last word a horrible insult, and she stifled a laugh.

She gave him an almost flirtatious smile, and replied archly, "Being rational and logical in no way implies being weak-willed, Professor."

He merely gave a small noise of disbelief or irritation and preceded her to a long corridor on the third floor, which she did not recall seeing during her years as a student.

"This is the faculty wing. Professors who are not Heads of Houses have their lodgings here. It is invisible and inaccessible to students. However, you will find a door inside your rooms which will take you directly to your office, which immediately adjoins your classroom."

He opened the door to what was essentially a small flat, though somewhat larger than the one she had just been forced to vacate. Her belongings had already been moved here and more or less unpacked as she had had them in her previous home. The layout was remarkably similar to her original flat, and most of her possessions had been put in their corresponding places already.

She looked into it for a moment, checking wardrobe and cupboard space, and mentally made note of what things needed to be moved. She was immediately conscious of the _lack_ of fear, feeling no need at all to perform her ritual search of the flat upon entrance. This she attributed to the sense of safety, which seemed to permeate the castle. There were several large trunks in the center of the sitting room, and she opened these immediately, rummaging through papers silently as she tried to ignore the powerful presence of one grumpy Severus Snape standing in the center of the room.

It would have been easier to ignore a nesting mother dragon lying there instead.

He seemed mildly amused or irritated, though with him the two might well be the same, as he observed her in silence. Something in one of her trunks caught his eye, and he strode over and pulled out what was unmistakably a green Slytherin Snake, of the sort used by students for autographs. He was on the point of opening it to look at the pages within when she snatched it unceremoniously from his hands, and instead placed several rolls of parchment there.

"I will thank you not to go through my personal belongings, Professor Snape," she said, irritably. "I believe you will find those notes adequate to your needs. Now, if you will show me to my office and classroom?"

He quirked an eyebrow and perused the papers in his hand, and asked in a bored voice, "Why does a Ravenclaw have a Slytherin Snake?"

"I do not see that as being any concern of yours. I had lots of friends in all the Houses, not just Ravenclaw," she replied with annoyance. "My office, Professor Snape?"

He tucked the spell notes into an inner pocket of his robes. He did not reveal his grudging approval of the work. She was thorough in her notes, and it would indeed be helpful in his next encounter with the Dark Lord. He did not, however, like being indebted to anyone and it rankled.

"Of course, Miss Lupin," he replied, taking on the bored tones of someone set in a dull and tedious task, "you will also undoubtedly want to see the areas of the castle which have changed since your school days. The owlery is no longer in North Tower, but in the east, as Trelawney wanted the north for her lodgings and classes. Potions is no longer on the fourth floor, as I have moved it to the dungeons, as you know already. I expect you will have need to send owls?"

"My office will be sufficient, Professor Snape. I can wander and find the rest for myself," she said, still irritated. She had no wish to be 'minded', especially by this man! "I presume I'm allowed relatively free rein of the castle and grounds?"

"Yes, yes. You may go where you like, so long as you do not leave the protection of the grounds. We are nearly at your office now, and then you can find your way to the owlery yourself. It would be best if you were discreet in your owls, as they have been intercepted often of late," he replied, matching her tone-for-tone in irritation.

"Here is your office," he said, opening a door to a large room lined with shelves. It also contained a desk, several filing cabinets, one chair behind the desk and two in front of it, a fireplace near the window, and a seating arrangement near the fire which was similar to the one in her flat, though smaller.

"That shelf there," he said, pointing and then demonstrating, "conceals a door, which is magically connected to your rooms, so you can move freely between the two. You will need to set your own password to use it.

"Your classroom then, is here," he said as he opened a door opposite her desk, to reveal a classroom with student desks, a blackboard, animal cages, bookshelves and other standard paraphernalia. He preceded her into it and opened another door on the far wall.

"This door has been enchanted to communicate with your lab in the dungeon, so you can move freely between all of your rooms without entering the public corridors, if you should choose."

He crossed his arms and faced her with his haughty sneer firmly in place, "Do you require anything else, Miss Lupin, or has your tour been sufficient for your present needs?"

She was very pleased with the accommodations. But his attitude and sneering 'Miss Lupin' aggravated her.

"I'm fine from here, Professor, thank you. Although I suppose that once students arrive, I must ask you to refer to me as 'Professor Lupin'? Anything else might be construed as disrespectful. I'm going to have a hard enough time being the new teacher without my colleagues openly deriding me in front of the students."

He gave her a look that was simultaneously sardonic and approving. "Of course, _Professor_ Lupin. I meant no disrespect. Good day." With a small, almost mocking bow, he was gone.

* * *

She did indeed go to the owlery first, but only to send a note to her mother and another to Elizabeth. Eliza could assure the rest of her former colleagues that she was well. It was odd, in a sense, how quickly she had come to view them as 'former' colleagues.

It was late, so she quickly returned to her new rooms and set to unpacking her things. A small cage was opened to release a tawny-coloured ferret, almost exactly the same colouring as Rowena's hair, with bright, curious eyes.

"This is our new home now, Vixen. Try to behave yourself? And no hoarding."

This last was said with little hope of obedience. Vixen was an excellent familiar and companion—but she was a ferret, and ferrets hoard things, especially if they are small, bright, and shiny.

The rest of her unpacking was not nearly so easy as merely opening the ferret's cage.

_Professor!_ How the bloody hell did she allow herself to get talked into this? It seemed her whole life had been turned utterly upside down in the space of a few short weeks. She was not of a temperament to have much tolerance for this level of excitement. How she was going to manage teaching was a mystery!

She set the passwords as she had been instructed, then spent several hours moving back and forth amongst the rooms, putting things away. Her photo albums and more personal articles needed discreet homes. At last she was satisfied with the result. She was tired, though, and hadn't eaten since lunch. Summoning a house-elf, she had a light supper before going to bed.


	5. Chapter 5: Redemption Scorned

This is a fanfiction based in JKR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a _lot_ of help with this story!

**Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.**

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* * *

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Chapter 5: Redemption Scorned

* * *

She woke with a small start and had to take a moment to recall where she was and why. Once she found her bearings, she dressed quickly and set off to find Professor Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall, or anyone except Professor Snape. She had questions and didn't feel like obtaining the answers by wading through a minefield of verbal sparring.

All the professors—well, all that lived here year-round—were in the Great Hall for breakfast. Rowena approached the table with shy uncertainty, but Dumbledore saw her and greeted her with his usual warm smile. He stood and beckoned her toward him, gesturing to an empty chair.

"Rowena! It's good to see you making yourself at home already. Please, sit and have some breakfast. What can we do to make you feel more comfortable? Is there anything you need?" he asked as he seated her.

She smiled shyly and nodded. "Yes, actually I had some questions, Professor Dumbledore…." She stopped as he interrupted her with a gentle shake of his head.

"First names please, Rowena," he reminded her gently.

"Albus, then," she said, as she took the offered seat. "I wanted to know exactly what my restrictions are. I need to do some shopping before term starts, but I am more concerned about the volunteer work I do on Saturdays at St. Mungo's. The shopping I could do by Owl-post if necessary, but St. Mungo's… I really enjoy that work; I'd rather not give it up."

Albus smiled at her and patted her hand. "Of course, Rowena. We will work something out. The most dangerous time will be the actual transit. Once inside St. Mungo's you would be safe enough, though I must insist you have an escort while travelling. The Floos will be rather closely watched by unfriendly eyes, I'm afraid. Do you fly?"

Rowena paled and shook her head vigorously. "No, not at all! I don't do well with heights. I've never had a broomstick off the ground."

"Hmm, that does make things difficult," he said thoughtfully as he returned to his own chair at the head of the table. "The walk to Hogsmeade isn't that far, but it's still a solid twenty minutes in good weather, which makes it not very safe in light of the situation. We know the enemy has spies watching the grounds and surrounding area."

He fell silent as he buttered his toast, his brow furrowed slightly. "Have you ever gone anywhere by Thestral? Can you see Thestrals? They are much more comfortable than broomsticks, as well as feeling more sturdy and secure."

Rowena sighed and smiled wryly. "I'm sure I could see them. I've worked with my dad at St. Mungo's as an assistant of sorts before I chose my career. I've seen death. But I've never actually seen a Thestral, and I've certainly never ridden one. You did hear me say that I don't like heights, didn't you?"

He chuckled slightly. "Yes, Rowena, I caught that part. However, Thestrals are extremely safe and fiendishly difficult to catch if someone should try to pursue you. Hagrid has done a remarkable job of taming ours. They might be the safest way for you to get to and from St. Mungo's.

"Hagrid, why don't you bring one or two out to the lawn after breakfast and let her give it a try, won't you?"

"Right'cha are, Headmaster," Hagrid answered happily, and Rowena suppressed a shudder and a sigh. With a resigned air, she nodded her agreement.

"Splendid. I'm sure they will suit. Now, we just need to organise someone to accompany you. How often do you go?" Albus asked cheerfully.

"I go every Saturday afternoon after lunch, and usually stay until around nine o'clock—or whenever all the children are asleep. Maybe someone could just escort me there and then come back again later to get me? It might be inconvenient to make two trips, but not as bad as wasting an entire Saturday."

Albus waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that, Rowena. I understand the security is an inconvenience. I am happy to help you maintain as much normality as possible. Surely anyone who has already accompanied you there this past month would be delighted to continue the service, though I would like you to have someone with a bit more combative experience than Molly Weasley. We will work something out.

"You have a bite and go try those Thestrals."

* * *

The lawn was shimmering in the light breeze, causing it to look like brushed velvet. Two large, pitch-black, scaly animals stood blinking at her in the bright light. They looked like a skeletal cross between a Pegasus and a black dragon, with ghostly white eyes.

She mounted one nervously, with Hagrid's instructions. Growing up on a working farm, she could ride a horse well enough, but this was entirely different—not the least because there was no saddle or reins to grasp. Wrapping her hands tightly in the coarse, bristly hairs of the beast's mane, she braced herself for the worst. Hagrid gave a command and it was off, great leathery wings beating the air, massive muscles working beneath her knees. The ground fell away quickly and she waited for the horrible, nauseating vertigo to overwhelm her.

Surprisingly, it did not incapacitate her as it normally would have done. She was frightened, but something about the magic of the creature allowed her to avoid the pure, mind-numbing terror that usually gripped her when she was more than a few feet off the ground. The Thestral circled the lawn in a great loop, until Hagrid called to it with a harsh cry. It swooped back to where the huge man stood and landed in front of him. The landing was surprisingly gentle, almost graceful, and she dismounted.

Her legs felt weak and rubbery, and her heart was pounding, her breath almost panting. She clung to the Thestral's back for a long moment to regain her sense of equilibrium—but, she had done it! It was impossible not to feel all the pride of accomplishment. Hagrid was beaming at her.

"There yeh go. Nuthin' ter it. They're dead useful. Yer goin' ter need ter be used ter ridin' 'em if yer goin' ter keep up your volunteerin' at St Mungo's. I think 's a fine thin' yer doin'. If yeh wan' a Thestral any time, yeh jus' let me know," Hagrid said happily.

"She would be better served if you encouraged her to give up this 'volunteering', Hagrid. She will soon have enough to do without adding needless work," said a sneering voice from within the shadow of a nearby tree. Severus Snape was leaning there, observing them.

"Now see here, Professor Snape, Dumbledore asked me ter help her, an' he said she could take Thestrals wherever she wanted s'long as she's got an escor' from the Order. If she wan's ter volunteer at the hospital, yeh've got no 'cause ter be stoppin' her," Hagrid said defensively.

"I am well aware of what Albus has said on the matter, Hagrid. It does not change the facts of the situation. It is unwise at the very least. She should not be needlessly out of the grounds or forcing someone else to forgo more important things to mind her. It is quite a waste of time and resources," said Severus.

"I will thank you both to stop talking about me as though I'm not here," Rowena said coolly. "I don't need a minder! The Headmaster said I only needed a guard while I was travelling. Surely I can be escorted to and from the hospital once a week without excessive inconvenience? I beg you not to put yourself out on my account, Professor Snape. It doesn't concern you."

The low baritone voice became soft and smooth as he replied, "Oh, but I am put out, Professor Lupin, and it does, indeed, concern me. Albus seems determined to underestimate the attempts that will likely be made on your life. The hospital security is inadequate. Since he refuses to take this seriously, I am now forced into the unwilling role of your protector. You will inform me when you wish to leave tomorrow, and I will accompany you."

"Oh, no you won't! That is completely unacceptable," she said angrily, temporarily forgetting Hagrid's presence. "I volunteer with _children, _ Professor Snape. Orphaned children who usually have been traumatized, occasionally at the hand of Death Eaters. I am not going to bring in some rude… sarcastic… cruel… bullying… _man_… into their presence to add to their distress. No way."

She was sputtering in her fury, obviously unable to think of an insult suitable to her temper. Severus, however, found amusement in her ranting and the corners of his mouth quirked in a smirk.

"Is that the best you can do? I assure you, I have heard far more creative insults directed toward me than your little tirade. In fact, I must say that I can hardly call it insulting since I cannot deny the truth of any of it. However, I will be coming with you, or you will not be going. That is the only concession I can get Albus to make in this regard, as he refuses to forbid you to go altogether.

"I will bring a book or something else to do to occupy my time so as not to distress your waifs. I came here to inform you of the arrangement, and to find what time I am expected to give over the rest of my day tomorrow?"

Rowena was nearly beside herself with frustration, but by the look on his face she knew that argument was futile. She would not back out of her commitment to the children for the likes of him! Still, it was all she could do not to stamp her foot ineffectually in temper.

"One o'clock. I will not wait for you," she said shortly.

"Fine," he said, equally shortly, and then turned and walked back to the castle, his robes billowing in angry emphasis of his brisk stride.

It wasn't until she heard the low chuckle behind her that she remembered Hagrid was there.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, his voice amused, "Professor Snape usually don' argue much with Professor Dumbledore. He mus' really think yer in some danger, Professor Lupin."

"Please, Hagrid, call me Rowena. All this 'Professor' business is getting to me already," she said resignedly.

"All right, then, Rowena. Snape's a tough ol' dragon, make no mistake. But Dumbledore trusts him. He'll keep yeh safe, yeh don' need ter worry abou' that."

She nodded. So, Hagrid thought she didn't trust Severus? It was just as well. She'd rather no one know the real cause of her distress. Silently she returned to the castle to begin working on lesson plans—and prepare herself mentally for the ordeal of tomorrow.

* * *

It was her intent to meet him on the lawns. She had avoided him since the altercation yesterday, and wished heartily that there were some other arrangement that could be made. A brief meeting with Dumbledore, however, assured her that he had indeed conceded Severus' point that she needed more security.

Worse, it had apparently been Dumbledore that had basically told Severus that if he didn't like the arrangements, he would have to see to it himself. That Severus had accepted the challenge was unnerving.

She was in the process of filling a large satchel with dolls, blankets and a variety of toys when a knock came at her door. Distractedly, as she was folding a stack of pastel blankets, she shouted at the door, "Come in, it's open."

"Are you moving into the paediatric ward, then?" The sneering voice of Severus Snape washed over her. She looked up to see him looking disdainfully at the neatly organized things laid out for orderly packing.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and attempted to speak to him rationally, though she was already finding her temper rising. She thought his goading attitude might be part of his attempt to make her dislike him. It wasn't working, but it was highly irritating.

"Professor Snape, you are about to accompany me on something which means a great deal to me. Even though I go to aid the children, I derive a great deal of pleasure from it as well. These children have nothing left. It is a small thing to bring them a few items of comfort and entertainment, and spend some time with them. I will not spend my day explaining my actions to you, nor will I spoil my enjoyment of the activity by rising to your bait. I will thank you kindly to keep your opinions to yourself."

He snorted and moved over to look at the blankets and toys. "In other words, you would like me to shut up?" he asked sardonically. "Very well. I won't pretend to make nice with a roomful of brats guaranteed to be more annoying than my worst students, but I will hold my tongue. Are you quite ready?"

She finished gathering her things into her bag without another word. In short order they were on the lawns, mounted on Thestrals, Disillusioned so as not to attract attention, and on their way. The flight took nearly an hour, but at last they landed in the courtyard of St. Mungo's, where Severus instructed the Thestrals to wait. It didn't take her as long, this time, to regain her calm after the terror of the flight.

Rowena didn't ask, and didn't want to know, whom he had seen die… she was quite certain she wouldn't like the answer.

The Children's Ward was full and noisy. The nurses and Healers greeted Rowena with the cheerful informality that comes from long acquaintance. However, they quieted and looked almost fearfully at the tall, dark, brooding man who followed only a pace or two behind her. She walked through the main corridor and then down a quieter hallway. The nurses in this ward were more subdued, but hugged her in greeting.

"Mandy, how are my babies this week? Any new ones? Anyone found homes yet?" Rowena asked as she hugged a matronly looking woman.

"Och, lass, we've got a new one in just today. The Aurors brought her in sometime last night. She's a wee thing, maybe about three years old we think. Muggle-born, but definitely a witch. Found her in a shop in Knockturn Alley. They was using her blood in potions, poor thing. Can't nobody get her to say a word. Don't even know if she knows English. Come see if you can work your own special magic, Rowena, won't you?" The woman broke off her chatter in her thick Scottish brogue to look at Severus suspiciously.

"Mandy, this is Professor Snape. I'm at Hogwarts now. It's a long story, but I seem to be in need of security these days—you've seen Mrs Weasley and some of the other teachers with me before. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to come with me today. Professor Snape, this is Mandy McGinny. She's the Ward Sister here."

Severus nodded in greeting, but said nothing. He didn't even bother to scoff at the idea that he was here out of 'kindness'. All his attention was focused on the news of the newly arrived child, and he had become decidedly uncomfortable. He knew the sorts of potions that were created in Knockturn Alley, and specifically what manner of potions required the blood of a wizarding child. Bloody hell, he had _created_ many—if not most—of them himself. _Damn_!

His past would haunt him forever; he had come to accept that. But to come here and have his nose rubbed in it… well; it was almost more than he could stand. His dark, brooding silence closed in on him even more, and he followed the two women into the ward.

It was a bright and colorful place, with toys, books and balloons everywhere. It had very little of the normal antiseptic sterility that was universally common in hospitals, but rather felt like a warm, if cramped, nursery. Most of the toys and books bore the unmistakable air of long-usage, but there seemed to be an abundance of them.

There were eight beds in all. Four cots contained small infants of various ages. There was a boy of about the age of eight and twin girls who seemed younger, maybe five or so, though he was no judge of age in young children. The bed by the window contained the huddled ball of a small child.

She was tiny, nearly skeletal. It was immediately clear that she was the only one here who was physically in need of medical treatment. She was waxy pale, with huge, brilliantly blue eyes staring blankly into space, and hair the color of newly minted galleons, though it was dull and matted at present.

The twin girls and the eight-year-old boy came running as soon as Rowena entered the room, throwing themselves at her where she stood and hugging her. The children immediately began a storm of chatter like twittering birds, each clamouring for her attention. She sat on the edge of one of the beds and began digging through her satchel, doling out her treasures. To the boy, she gave a toy dragon—a wizarding one that actually moved and made sounds, with a book about dragons to go with it. To the twin girls, she gave coloring books and crayons, and also a doll for each girl. The babies in the cots each received a soft fleece blanket and a stuffed animal. All the while, Rowena talked and laughed with the children.

Severus quickly and silently seated himself in the far corner of the room, between a window and the tiny girl lying still as a stone on the bed, and tried to engross himself in his book. He could not. His mind was occupied with the plight of the silent child.

When the other children were absorbed in their new gifts, Rowena came to the child on the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and the nurse, Mandy, came over as well. Rowena stroked the child's hair, but she seemed oblivious to the touch.

"Can't anyone find out anything about her, Mandy?"

"No, lass. We don't have anyone on duty this weekend that can do Legilimency well enough. Your dad thought as much as the child's been through, it'd be best not to meddle. It might do more harm than good so to speak. Not a very subtle thing, Legilimency—ain't many, 'cept maybe Albus Dumbledore, that can do it with any skill without casting the actual spell and being too rough and all. We hope to have someone take a look at her Monday and see what they can find out."

Severus stirred at this. The other children, they were merely orphans. Children were orphaned all the time. But this child… she could very well be orphaned indirectly because of _him_, of the potions he had developed for the Death Eaters when he was still with them in heart and deed. Somehow her fate and condition disturbed him greatly.

"Why don't you just Obliviate her? A child should not have to remember the things she likely has seen." He surprised himself by the bitterness in his voice, and found himself flaring to anger at the brief flash of something like pity he saw in Rowena's eyes when she glanced at him.

She shook her head and replied softly, "She's a wizarding child, Professor Snape. If we Obliviated her, in light of how deep the trauma must surely go, we could seriously damage her memory, magical abilities and cognitive functioning for the rest of her life. The best we can do is try to help her learn to deal with what has happened."

He gave a derisive sound deep in his throat. "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, is that it?"

She glanced up at him sharply, surprised at the raw, bitter emotion in his voice. "What?"

"Nothing. Just something my dear old dad was fond of saying." He sighed, and in a softer voice said, "Rowena, I would like to help."

She looked at him in open-mouthed shock. First, he called her by name, something he had avoided since the Memorial over a month ago, and second, he was offering to help this child. She had no idea what he was offering, but she merely nodded her head. "If you like. I was just going to sit and rock with her; they seem to like that…"

But he was shaking his head. "No—I mean, I'm a Legilimens." He smirked haughtily. "A bloody good one, though maybe not quite so skilled as Albus Dumbledore; he's had a few more years to practise. Let me look at her and see if I can help with what the Healers need to know."

Of course. She had always felt he could see into her thoughts, hadn't she? Making a mental note never, _ever_ to let her Occlumency drop, no matter what, around this man, she nodded her assent.

"Now wait just one minute there," said the Ward Sister, who suddenly looked much more forbidding. "I'm sorry Professor-whatever your name was—I trust Rowena, she's been helping us for years and her dad's one of the Chief's and all, but I don't know you from Merlin and can't possibly let you be poking around in this lassie's head. Might do more harm than good. I'm sorry. Nothing doing."

"Mandy," Rowena said reassuringly, "It's okay. If Severus says he can do this, then he _can _do it. I'm sure he'll be careful, and it would be very helpful to know something about her, right?"

Severus looked piercingly at her, caught first by the odd, gentle way she said his name. She was defending him, showing unquestioning faith in him to do as he said he would. In spite of his efforts to the contrary, her trust in him remained unwavering.

She met his gaze fully, though he smirked to himself to see that she still guarded her thoughts with her own Occlumency. Trust in him, but only so far. Well, it was still more than he had known from others. He was newly intrigued, though he easily stifled the sensation.

The Ward Sister relented with a nod, though she still looked at him suspiciously. Severus went to sit on the opposite side of the bed from Rowena. The child's eyes were wide and staring. He was almost afraid to see what he would find there. He looked up again at Rowena.

"Maybe you should hold her. I do not know how much I can see without her knowing what I am doing. It might upset her. I will desist at once if she becomes distressed."

Rowena nodded and gently picked up the child, wrapping her in a soft fleece blanket from her bag—did the woman have a bottomless bag of blankets? She carried her over to the rocking chair by the window and cradled her gently. Severus brought a chair over so that he was directly eye-level with the child. He took a breath, steeling himself for unpleasantness… and met the haunted gaze.

He was still and silent, motionless as though made from wax, for long, long minutes. Rowena feared to move and barely allowed herself to breathe, afraid to accidentally break the connection or distress the child. At last he looked away, and for a moment he met Rowena's eyes with a gaze so full of pain and anguish that she thought she might scream just from the raw empathy of it. The instant was gone so quickly that she might not have believed it had happened if the pain wasn't still so palpable in her heart.

He stood up and turned his back to them, looking out the window. His voice was strange and harsh, even to his own ears.

"She speaks German. They have had her in that cellar for at least six months—it was winter when they captured her, and not quite Christmas. She was the only magical one in her family, and she witnessed the murder of who I can only assume were her parents and two brothers, one older, one an infant. As near as I can tell, her name is 'Katrina', though it is her memory of her brother calling her that, so the pronunciation may be incorrect."

The child had been completely motionless during it all, and even now made no sign that she was aware of her surroundings. Rowena laid her own head on the top of the child's golden blonde one, silent tears streaming down her face. Mandy blew her nose loudly and left the room, saying something about finding a translator.

Severus, though, was not done with his surprises. When the Ward Sister left the room, he returned to the chair by Rowena and the child. Silently he handed Rowena a white handkerchief from the depths of a pocket, and she dried her face. Facing the child, he spoke in soft tones, rapid German, and there was no hint of the usual cruel bitterness in his voice.

The child, surprisingly, stirred in Rowena's arms. She looked at him and blinked her eyes, then shook her head. He said something else; she shook her head again. The third time he asked her a question, she nodded, and something in return.

"Die schokolade."

Rowena was staring at Severus in wide-eyed shock and wonder herself. What in Merlin's name was occurring here? By the time Mandy returned with a male orderly, Severus had stood and returned to the window.

"She has no other living family that she knows of, she is not in pain, but she is hungry. She wants chocolate," Severus said, by way of explanation of their conversation.

Mandy was about to reply to this, and had just asked the orderly to translate for her, when the child saw this man and began to shriek in hysteria. Severus spun around, grabbed the man by the arm and bodily escorted the orderly out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

"He looks remarkably like one of the men who had been her captor," he said simply, over the pitiful screams of the child.

Rowena rocked her, trying to calm her but with no real success. It was as though now that her catatonia had passed, she needed to scream in release of her fear, grief, and anguish from her ordeal. Rowena simply rocked her and crooned soothingly, allowing her to cry in safety. Severus stood stone-still at the window, betraying no emotion whatever and looking at no one in the room. It seemed to take hours before the anguished wailing began to diminish.

"Bring the child some chocolate, will you?" Severus asked the Ward Sister irritably. She nodded and left, quickly returning with a tray full of chocolate frogs. He made a noise of derision at this, and waved his wand over them to remove their animating enchantment. "I believe she's had enough magic for now without being scared senseless when her chocolate jumps away, don't you think?"

He brought one over to the child, where she still sat on Rowena's lap. She had calmed to the point of the hiccuping, shuddering breaths which follow that sort of crying. He spoke to her again in German. The child held out her hand tentatively, and he gave her the frog. She looked at it and wrinkled her nose in apparent displeasure. He gave the smallest of laughs and said something else. She nodded and ate the chocolate silently.

"She thinks it's disgusting to make chocolate shaped like frogs. I must say I agree completely," he said, then stood up and walked about the room. His face was an inscrutable mask of stoicism, but his pacing betrayed unsettled thoughts and emotions.

He finally came back to where they sat and this time addressed Rowena. "I believe she will be stable for a while. I am going out for a time, to get some air. Do not leave this ward. I will be back shortly."

Rowena nodded and looked up at him, smiling slightly, though her own eyes were still bright with tears. Her expression was one of both gratitude and sympathy for what this had apparently dredged up for him. "I'm not going anywhere. Thank you, Severus."

He sneered bitterly at her, and all the old sarcastic cruelty was back in his voice. He spoke in low tones so as not to be overheard by the Ward Sister. "Do not thank me, Lupin," he hissed. "I do not want your gratitude or your compassion! It is my potion recipe that surely caused this child to be orphaned and tortured. That is not a debt that can be repaid. Do not leave this ward."

In a swirl of black robes he was gone.

* * *

He stayed away nearly all of the rest of her visit with the children. Rowena modified an old translation charm and cast it upon Katrina so she could speak with the other children and staff to a limited extent. It was too powerful of a charm to use the full version on her in her current weak and vulnerable state, but the modification would be sufficient to allow her a faster transition into English.

She rocked babies and read stories to the other children and spent a fairly pleasant visit, the back of her mind still worried for Severus. It was dark outside, and all the children but Katrina were comfortably sleeping in their beds, but he had not yet returned.

Katrina had latched onto Rowena instantly, and had barely allowed herself to be put down. The child was comfortably snuggled in her lap at the moment; her golden curls were no longer matted, but instead were damp from a bath and had been brushed smooth. She was very nearly asleep.

The ward door opened and a shadowy figure stepped inside. Even in the very dim light, Rowena knew it was Severus. He said nothing, but went to the chair near the window and sat down in silence.

Katrina looked at him when he came in and squirmed off of Rowena's lap. She went over and stood next to Severus. Rowena could only make out the bright glitter of his dark eyes as he regarded the child. She spoke to him in German, he responded in kind, and they had a brief conversation. Rowena watched curiously. When the conversation seemed to be over, the child raised her arms out to him in the silent, universal childish request to be picked up.

Rowena drew in her breath and was on the verge of standing up to retrieve her so she wouldn't have to face Severus' rejection, when he surprised her yet again by gently lifting the child onto his lap. Katrina snuggled against him immediately, and he rocked her for several minutes in silence. His face was an unreadable mask, cloaked in shadows of the dimly lit room.

At last he stood and carried the child to her bed. He smoothed the blankets over her, as though he had been tucking toddlers into bed all of his life, and spoke a few more words in German before walking away from her. He stopped at the door and stood with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for Rowena to follow.

"Good night, Katrina. I will visit you again soon, okay?" Rowena said to her as she tucked the blankets unnecessarily again, and then gave her a large, soft teddy bear.

"He said four days," Katrina said in halting English, with the blunt innocence of a child. It was unlikely she was old enough to understand the concept of 'four days' in any case.

Rowena looked at her, not knowing what to say. If he had indeed said four days, well, she wouldn't contradict him. But perhaps the child had misunderstood. "I always come on Saturday, Katrina. I will be here on Saturday again for certain, all right?"

Severus' voice cut across the silence of the room. "Term has not yet started, Professor Lupin. I told the child we would return on Wednesday. I did not expect you to object."

Rowena was grateful for the darkness of the room to hide her blush. Somehow hearing him say 'we would return' like that gave her an odd sensation in her stomach. She smiled and shook her head. "No, no objections Professor Snape. Four days then, Katrina, just as he said." She leaned forward and kissed the child gently on the top of her head and left with him.

* * *

Anger, almost rage, radiated from him as they made their way to the courtyard with the Thestrals. The flight back to Hogwarts was uneventful. Concern for the little girl and bemusement over Severus' actions even caused Rowena to be less aware of her fear of the height during the flight. He claimed the bulk of her ruminations. Rowena knew he blamed himself for Katrina's fate and condition.

Once on the Hogwarts grounds, alone with him on the dark lawn, Rowena stopped him with a gentle hand on his sleeve. "Severus… wait a moment, please? I've been thinking about what you said at the hospital. I wish you wouldn't blame yourself for this. You didn't kill her parents. This isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for other people's actions."

He rounded on her, his rage boiling over at last, and finding her a convenient target upon whom to vent it. His visage was twisted in fury, truly frightful, and his voice dripped hate. "Do not presume to tell me whom I can blame for what, Lupin! You, in your perfect, idealistic, black-and-white little world of good and evil where good always triumphs! You make me sick!

"Do you have any idea what it means to be a Death Eater, Lupin? Do you? I was a willing and enthusiastic member of that exclusive little club for nearly three full years. It is very likely that I created the potion for which they were using that child's blood! If it is the potion I suspect it is, then there are probably hundreds of children like her that have been bled to death for its creation!"

His angry tirade was accompanied by effusive gesticulation, either stabbing an accusing finger at her, or a thumb at himself, or gesturing vaguely in the direction from which they had just come to indicate the little girl in question.

"It reduces aging, you see? It keeps them young and fit. It's not nearly the same as the Philosopher's Stone, but quite adequate for those whose first concern is physical beauty and vanity.

"If not for me, for my weakness and lust for vengeance, that potion would not have been created and that child would not be lying in that hospital bed, bled nearly to death, mourning the loss of her parents and two brothers!"

He was towering over her, almost screaming, his rage washing over her in waves. Yet she stood her ground, glaring up at him, and waited for the storm to pass. It was difficult not to flinch away from the angry gestures that punctuated his speech, but he never came close to actually touching her.

When he seemed to have done, or at least was forced to pause for breath, she confronted him. Her voice was no less angry, but it was cool and icy where his had been hot with rage.

"Have you quite finished? My word, but you are arrogant! I always attributed true conceit to Potter. It seems you have a drop or two of it yourself. Do you really think that you are the only living person who could have made that potion? If you hadn't made it, someone else would have!

"You were, how did you put it, a 'willing and enthusiastic member' of the Death Eaters for almost three years. Okay, fine. It's part of your past. Part of who you are. But who else out of all the Death Eaters has managed to find their way out of that hell? Or has even tried to leave and lived to tell about it? Who else has not only left, but also turned spy 'at great personal risk', actively and aggressively working against them?"

In contrast to his exuberant arm motions, her hands were held in tightly clenched fists at her sides.

"Do tell me, Professor Snape," she said sarcastically, "I am longing to know, how much self-inflicted hate, loathing and genuine suffering must you endure before you forgive yourself your past crimes and give yourself permission to live your life? I've never viewed you as enjoying the martyr role, but apparently I was mistaken!"

His face paled as his rage spiraled higher. For a moment she thought he might strike her. He certainly balled his fists as though he wanted to do exactly that. Instead, his voice dropped to the silk he used when his rage was nearly beyond words.

"You know nothing of hate, Lupin. You know nothing of hell. You know nothing of Death Eaters and what they are capable of. There are some things that are unforgivable. There are some people who have lived lives of such evil and pure depravity that there is no redemption. _I am such a man_. You would do well to remember that.

"I will see you here on Wednesday at five o'clock. I do not wish to set eyes on you before then. Go take your idealism to Dumbledore or someone else who believes in forgiveness and redemption. Do not sicken me with your pipe dreams and chimeras."

He then turned and stormed up to the castle, leaving Rowena with her heart full of compassion for him, in spite of her anger over his stubbornness.

* * *

A/N: German Translation:

die schokolade—chocolate


	6. Chapter 6: Summons and Orders

This is a fanfiction based in JKR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a _lot_ of help with this story!

**Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.**

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* * *

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Chapter 6: Summons and Orders

* * *

Rowena spent the next several days working on lesson plans. McGonagall and Flitwick were very helpful in this. Never having taught before, she had no idea where to begin or how to break down the material for appropriate age levels. The necessary teaching attire was acquired by owl-order.

Wednesday evening came too quickly, though she simultaneously felt as though she had waited forever. By four o'clock, she was waiting on the grounds with a new bundle of toys and books. She didn't want him catching her off guard again like he had done last time. His presence in her personal space would only heighten her sense of vulnerability around him; the memory of their row did that well enough on its own. It was far better to meet him here, on neutral ground.

The brisk strides and catlike grace announced his identity long before he was near enough to see clearly. The snap and swish of his black robes seemed to be the physical manifestation of his mood. He didn't acknowledge her presence when she caught him up to walk the last few metres to Hagrid's cabin together.

Hagrid greeted them and summoned the Thestrals with his call, and then with fresh meat, but it was a long wait, and even then only one arrived. Hagrid sighed and gave them a chagrined look.

"I'm real sorry, Professors. The centaurs' bin huntin' today, and there's bin a lot o'refuse from their kills. Thestrals'd rather eat than work, I don' reckon I'll be able ter get any others. This one could do fer both o' yeh. Thestrals are real strong, wouldn' be no trouble."

Rowena paled and shook her head, but before she could speak, Severus grabbed her from behind. She shrieked and tried frantically to twist away, but his strong hands half-spanned her waist, and he lifted her easily onto the beast.

She cried out, "No, really! This isn't going to work!"

But he had already swung up behind her, reached around her to hold the mane himself, and said harshly, "St. Mungo's."

The Thestral lurched easily into the air, and they were off. Severus' voice sounded distant in the rush of wind, though she was painfully aware of him directly behind her.

"I've no time to argue, and I'll not break my word to that child. I won't bite you and I won't throw you off, so do try to contain your horror at my proximity," he said sardonically.

Oh, Merlin's Beard! If only she could feel horror at his proximity! She had been frightened, indeed almost to the point of panic, when he first grabbed her from behind like that—too much similarity to the aborted assault many years before. However, as soon as she was settled on the beast and all but enveloped in his warm strength behind her, those emotions took an entirely different turn.

Her heart was pounding, and the familiar fear of simply being terrifyingly high above the ground was affecting her, of course. But that seemed a paltry annoyance in comparison to the feel of very strong, firm arms around her waist, the long, thin fingers nearly entangled with hers in the mane, and his body pressed close behind her.

She had never in her life been—willingly—this physically close to another person. She was practically sitting on his lap, his firm thighs alongside hers from behind and both their bodies rocking with the movement of the beast's wings. It was a movement that had always been faintly terrifying to her before, but now was worse, as it was oddly seductive. It was hard to resist the urge to close her eyes and lean back against him, to melt into his arms like a lover.

However, there was something in the severe rigidity with which he held his body that suggested that he was no more comfortable in this situation than she was.

She had never been more disturbed by sensations of her body. The flight was just under an hour, but it seemed simultaneously to last an eternity and yet not long enough. A part of her felt safer and more secure in his arms, miles above the ground on the back of the magical beast than she had ever felt before. An equal part of her was terrified at the strange, heated sensations swirling around within her. It was a mixture of remorse and relief that filled her as they landed in the hospital courtyard.

He dismounted first and offered her a hand off. She shook her head violently and slid down herself, clinging again to the mount while her trembling body regained its sense of earth and gravity, and her wildly pounding heart-rate returned to normal. She couldn't meet his eyes for a long moment, not wanting him to see the disturbance of her spirits.

"If you are so afraid of heights, why don't you give this up in light of the circumstances?" he asked her. His tone was almost conversational, with little of his usual sarcasm.

She was glad he assumed all her discomposure arose from the height. When she was certain she could face him with relative calm, she turned and shook her head. "I'm not going to give up on these children over some irrational fear. The Thestrals make it much easier—I'd never make it on broomstick. Besides, I'm sure that if I just keep facing it, I'll get over it, eventually."

He snorted. "How very Gryffindor of you. Face the fear head on, is that it?" He went to grasp her elbow to guide her inside, but pulled back as though burnt when she involuntarily flinched back from him, and his face darkened.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean anything by that…"

He sneered at her. "Of course, Professor Lupin. Enough physical contact with the evil Potions master, for one day, eh? Shall we go?"

"No, wait—you don't understand and I don't want you angry over nothing!"

He scoffed in derision, thought this seemed to be self-directed. "I quite assure you that I am more than accustomed to women shrinking away from me. That you survived the journey is testament to your bravery. Now, get inside."

She stood in front of him defiantly, a now-familiar look of stubborn annoyance overtaking her features. "Will you _listen_ to me for a minute? I jump like that when _anybody_ touches me when I'm not expecting it. I can't help it. It's the Warrington thing again, all right?"

She shuddered slightly and continued, "I haven't ever gotten over it—you know that, by watching me search my flat. So, I would thank you kindly not to jump to conclusions about my actions, and if you are going to grab me and throw me on the back of a horse, it would be most considerate if you would at least warn me first!"

His brow furrowed, and his dark countenance somehow became even stormier.

"Of course. It was careless of me. Now, I am truly short on time this evening, and I doubt I would be welcome on the ward without your presence. Shall we go?"

He gestured carelessly toward the door, and she led the way. Internally she was scolding herself for putting them at odds once again. It seemed he had been willing to at least ignore their row on Saturday, and then she had to go and make everything awkward all over again. With a smothered sigh, she forced a cheerful smile as they entered the ward.

It was much the same as before, though minus one infant, as she had been adopted. The other children were just as excited to see Rowena, hugging her quickly and clamoring to tell her of their week, asking why she was here on a Wednesday since she normally only came on Saturdays; the normal busy chatter of excited children. The noise and questions were overwhelming, so that there was no more room for unsettling ruminations. Sitting down where they could all sit around her, or on her lap, she listened and answered with apparent delight.

Severus went immediately to the corner chair by the window, next to Katrina's bed, and merely observed the flurry of activity.

Katrina seemed too shy to join in the crush, but stood on the fringe of the group of children and also watched silently. Rowena spotted her at once, beckoned to her, and snuggled her firmly on her lap. The child was still much too thin, but no longer nearly as pale. Doubtlessly, she had been treated with numerous Blood-Replenishing potions, among others. The bright-blue eyes watched Severus cross the room, and soon Katrina wriggled off of Rowena's lap to go and stand by the silent man.

Rowena was too distracted by the other children to give her full attention to that interaction. When she next glanced toward the corner, Katrina was comfortably settled on Severus' lap, and they seemed to be deep in conversation in German, with no notice for anyone else. Rowena doled out her presents, and at last was able to extricate herself from the others to come to Katrina.

In addition to her improved colour, Katrina's golden curls were now clean and neat, brushed to a high sheen. Next to her bed, there was also a large box full of some of the most expensive chocolates known to wizards; none of them were in the shape of animals, or animated. Rowena glanced up at Severus and raised an inquiring brow of her own. He refused to meet her gaze and actually looked somewhat sheepish!

She grinned at him, and was on the point of trying to tease him about his apparent new-found soft-spot for children, when he hissed as though something had struck him painfully, and clutched his left arm. He stood, setting Katrina gently in the chair, and looked at Rowena. His face was very pale, more even than usual, and a fine sheen of perspiration was already upon his upper lip.

"Rowena, I must leave. _NOW,_" he said in very soft tones that nonetheless conveyed a great deal of urgency.

She understood immediately. Quietly, she asked, "Do you have the notes I gave you?"

He nodded. "I can't take you back to Hogwarts. I must leave at once."

She nodded and quickly sought Mandy, the Ward Sister.

"Mandy, I have just forgotten I am late for an appointment. I can't stay another minute. I'm sorry to leave so suddenly, but I will come again on Saturday."

"Not a problem at all, lass," the Sister said kindly. "It was so nice of you to make an extra stop. Have a good evening, then."

Severus was already moving out the door, forcing Rowena to trot to catch him up.

"Come quickly. I will see you to the Thestral. Once in flight, you should be safe enough," Severus said, but he was distracted and irritable. "We ought to have planned for this contingency and had a back up guardian for your travel."

"It's okay," she said breathlessly as she panted to keep up with his long strides. "Dumbledore said the Thestrals are safe enough because they're so hard to catch."

"Not by someone else also upon a Thestral," he said as though it should have been obvious. "Thankfully, I know of no one besides Hagrid who has managed to domesticate the beasts. It will have to do, unless your father is on-duty tonight and can see you back to the castle?"

"No, he's always off on Wednesdays," she answered.

When they reached the animal, he turned to her to help her mount, but stopped short, clearly remembering that she didn't like to be touched. She stood to face him and placed a hand on his arm, which seemed to be invitation enough. He gripped her around her waist, lifted her as easily as he had done before, and placed her on the back of the animal.

She clung to his hand for another instant after he had lifted her, and looked into his eyes, for a moment forgetting to guard her emotions from him, fear and concern evident in them.

"Severus, be careful. Use the notes. Promise him you can get more. Whatever it takes. Merlin knows there is plenty more where they came from. Blame Dumbledore for taking me to Hogwarts. Anything. Just be safe," she said fearfully.

He looked at her, and there was again that small twinge of recognition as their eyes met. He gave her a small smirk, and resumed his sardonic tones. "Do not fear for me, Professor Lupin. I am well able to handle myself. Now go. Hogwarts, as quickly as you can."

This last bit, he said directly to the Thestral, and it lurched into the air at once. When it was over the hospital, Rowena heard the unmistakable 'crack' of Apparation.

* * *

Rowena wanted to see Dumbledore immediately upon returning to Hogwarts. It was the most urgent thought in her mind during the entire flight—tell Dumbledore. Dismounting the Thestral quickly, she ran flat-out to the castle. She found Albus in his office. There was no preamble to his greeting, as she was clearly in some distress.

"Rowena, what is it?" he asked, worriedly. She was pale and panting from running, and from fear.

"Severus—he was with me at St. Mungo's, but he's been summoned… by… his arm…" she stammered, unable to articulate her fear. Instead she cupped her right hand over her left forearm, pantomiming what she could not manage to say.

"Ah. I see. Come with me." He stood and strode quickly to the Hospital wing, calling for the Matron upon arrival. "Poppy? Poppy?"

The Matron appeared in the doorway of her office, an inquiring expression on her face.

"Prepare for Severus," Albus said, as though this was a familiar directive. "He's been gone—how long ago was the summons, Rowena?"

"Just over an hour. Do you expect him to need medical treatment, Professor?" she asked, her voice becoming higher with fear at the thought.

He sighed and looked at her with gentle sympathy.

"Yes, Rowena. He often does. Voldemort does not trust anyone, you see. He believes Severus to be his agent, spying on me for him, but he is always suspicious. It is a dangerous line Severus walks, and it is imperative that everyone who sees him believe that he is a Death Eater pulling the wool over a foolish old man's eyes."

He smiled at her then, plainly trying to reassure her, a hint of the usual twinkle in his clear blue eyes. "I do enjoy the role of a doddering old fool. I perform it admirably well, don't you think? It allows me so much room to play, and no one ever knows when I'm really doing something worth watching, or when I'm simply being senile. I must admit that it's quite entertaining. I've learnt some of my favorite tricks from my friend Alastor."

He could tell by looking into her wide, fearful eyes that his attempt at humour was not helping at this juncture, and he became more serious once again.

"Voldemort knows it would be very easy for his spy to cross him—as Severus has done, of course. Severus is routinely questioned to look for any deceptions. I imagine your loss will cause the interview to be particularly harsh, though your notes may be of assistance. He has a Portkey with him at all times, which will bring him directly here. We will wait."

To say that Rowena was horrified would be an understatement. Albus had led her into a hidden treatment room, which was concealed behind a large supply cabinet. It was nicely proportioned, but seeing Madam Pomfrey fussing about the empty bed with medical supplies, looking pale and frightened, did not improve Rowena's sense of security.

"Albus, let me call my dad, please? He's one of the best Healers St. Mungo's has ever had." This was probably the exaggeration of an adoring daughter, but she clearly believed it. Her tone was one of helplessness as she anxiously grasped at anything she might do that would be of use. "I've got to do _something_… please?"

He took her hand and squeezed it gently, offering a reassuring smile. "He's been in worse scrapes than this, Rowena. The fewer people we involve, the safer he will be. Let us wait and see, okay?"

And so they waited.

* * *

It felt like days, though it was really only a few hours. At about midnight, with a soft whooshing sound like a sudden breeze, the supine form of Severus Snape appeared suddenly on the narrow hospital bed. Albus had fallen asleep in his overstuffed chintz chair, and Poppy had retired to a bed in her office, awaiting only a call.

Rowena, however, had been awake, staring fearfully at the bed. She leapt immediately to his side and reached out for him. He grabbed her wrist with the speed of a striking snake, and glared at her suspiciously, but then relaxed. His eyes, within his bloodied face, were alert, but clouded with pain.

"I should have known you would be here," he said sardonically, though his voice was weak and forced.

She felt immediately businesslike. Her years of working with her father kicked in, enabling her to stave off the weak-kneed feeling of relief, which wanted to overwhelm her. Instead, she used the surge of adrenaline to cling to her objectivity. Waving her wand over him, she began standard diagnostic spells, trying to categorise the injuries to treat the most severe ones first.

"What hurts the most? Oh… _Merlin's beard_!" The standard 'Healer' question trailed off into a curse.

His face was bruised and bloody, and his breathing laboured, clearly painful. The ribs on the left side had been broken, nearly—but not quite—puncturing his lung.

However, the bit that shocked her most was the numerous old scars revealed by the diagnostic spells, since even bones scar as they heal. There was not a bone in his upper body that had not been broken and healed multiple times. One rib, in particular, had been broken so often that if one were to take it apart along all the scar lines, it would be reduced to nothing but rubble.

She quickly healed the bones, a fairly simple charm she had learnt early on from her father, and continued her diagnostic. Healing the bones immediately eased his breathing and likely a great deal of his pain, because he again roused himself enough to snatch her wrist in his hand to try to stop her, but she frowned at him.

"Lay still or I will paralyze you. Or I will wake Albus!" she threatened in a whisper. He desisted.

None of his facial bones were broken, though she treated the external bruises and cuts as well. Thankfully there did not seem to be much in the way of internal injury—something which would have been far beyond her ability to address. His legs also showed signs of frequent old breaks, but no current injury. Evidence of the Cruciatus Curse overlaid all the rest like a foul magical residue.

The after-effects of that particular curse sometimes seemed to her to be worse than the curse itself—most notably the insanity of the Longbottoms. Insanity was unusual, but it was not uncommon to see seizure activity hours or even days later due to nerve damage. Then there was the residual deep-muscle aches and chronic joint pain from the violent spasms caused during the throes of the curse, which could linger for weeks, if not more.

Since her promotion to the Combative Spells Division, she had been allowed to study the Unforgivables more thoroughly than anyone except those in the Department of Mysteries. The intensity of the negative emotions used to power those spells intrigued her. If the Cruciatus Curse had to be driven by a sadistic hatred and desire to actually cause pain and suffering to its victim, then perhaps the opposite emotions could counter the spell.

She had not been able to develop an effective counter-curse, of course. It was just too powerful. However, she was able to create a spell to heal the physical damage caused by the curse, fueled by opposing emotions. Compassion, benevolence, even affection would increase the effectiveness of the healing. Her father was the sort of Healer who could feel that depth of emotion for any hurting person, and had used the charm to good effect at St. Mungo's.

Rowena wouldn't like to test her ability to use it effectively on a stranger—especially not someone with this much Cruciatus damage. Severus, however…

She performed it without hesitation.

"_Solicify._"

It required several repeated applications of the charm, but gradually, a noticeable easing of his breathing rewarded her efforts, as well as less rigidity of his posture.

At last she could find no further injuries. She brought him a large glass of water and propped his pillows up behind him, the latter of which was unnecessary.

As soon as he was able, he sat at the edge of the bed, his back ramrod straight. His black eyes gleamed in the dim light of the torches, while his expression seemed to defy her to say something of his momentary weakness.

"Severus…" she whispered, uncertainly. What could she possibly say? It was her fault he had suffered through this particular encounter.

He took the glass from her, sniffed it in a manner reminiscent of Alastor Moody, and then drank deeply. His voice, when he spoke again, was fully recovered and coolly polite.

"I am fine, Professor Lupin. I thank you for your prompt attentions, as it saved the necessity of waking Albus or Poppy. I suggest you leave now and sleep yourself."

"I'm not going anywhere. I can sleep later. What happened? What does he want now?" she asked. She sat in the chair by the bed and clasped her hands together to keep them from betraying her continued anxiety.

He snorted. "You like to get right to the point, don't you, Lupin?"

For a while, she thought he might not answer. He was staring into the water glass with a thoughtful frown, as though contemplating.

In truth, he did not want to answer. It was one thing for the Dark Lord and Albus, and even this confounding woman, to accept that he was expected to try to delay her Azkaban research in some way, or steal it if he could. Lupin's willingness—no, her _insistence _that she be _allowed—_to participate in that endeavour ought to have made it more manageable. Not that he would have admitted such to her, of course.

This new directive, however, was very different. It was not a professional relationship of colleague to colleague that the Dark Lord wanted. That was too slow and unreliable. He thought it far better to toy with the emotions of those involved.

"_An infatuated woman," _the Dark Lord had said to him, with a laughing sneer_, "can be manipulated into almost anything…"_

He glanced up from his glass to bore his gaze into her chocolate-brown eyes. Even without Legilimency, he could see the sincerity of her concern. With Legilimency, he butted up against stubborn defiance, making him long to reach for his wand to give added strength to the skill, though he couldn't help but smirk when she glanced away. Doubtlessly he had been getting close to the limit of her ability to repel him.

She continued to look at him in stubborn silence, while he considered the dilemma. He knew that Albus would insist she be told as soon as he learnt of it, regardless of Severus' opinion on the matter. Severus would rather inform her himself, without the Meddler present.

"Very well. The Dark Lord is livid that you have shunned Orion Blaize. He has very little regard for the female gender as a rule. He believes them easily malleable by engaging their emotions, and your continued rejection of his operatives is taxing his limited patience.

"Then, my dear _friend_ Lucius provided him a bit of useful information, which he apparently received from his beloved wife."

Rowena drew in a sharp hiss of breath and gaped at him. She knew, oh Merlin's beard, she _knew_ what it was. Narcissa Malfoy had been feigning 'friendship' with her for years, having tea, arranging dates, visiting her lab and even dropping by her flat on occasion. It was just one of the many ways the Malfoy family kept tabs on what was going on in the Ministry.

Narcissa could not have failed to notice the surreptitious photos of Severus scattered about; or the fact that the men Rowena usually consented to date more than once generally bore at least some resemblance in appearance or temperament to Severus.

It was one thing for Rowena herself to have told Severus about some of her childhood infatuation with him. It was entirely different to dread how it must have sounded coming from Lucius Malfoy amongst a faceless horde of Death Eaters. She could easily imagine that Narcissa would have gleefully exaggerated the truth—and the truth itself was embarrassing enough!

She buried her face in her hands and waited for him to continue.

"Apparently, Narcissa suggested they were using the wrong… _bait_, if you will… to win the frigid heart of the scientist.

"Incidentally, the word _frigid_ is not mine. It was Orion's opinion, seconded by several other young men who have apparently tried to crack the ice of said scientist. 'Frigid' is not a word I would have considered aptly applied to you. Stubborn, willful, obstinate, temperamental... even irrational perhaps, but not 'frigid'."

She looked up at him then and offered a weak smile. "I'm sure, Professor Snape, that when you're feeling better you'll be able to add much more colourful adjectives to the list. I get the point.

"So, he wants to change the 'bait', as you call it?" she asked in a tone of weary defeat.

"Quite. You may be unaware that for the last year all of your supposed 'dates' have been arranged by his followers, all with the same apparent lack of success.

"The Dark Lord was pleased with the notes you provided me, which I claimed to have copied from your lab, but he wishes me to take a more _active_ role.

"He keeps his Death Eaters in line by throwing them occasional treats. You were originally promised to Blaize, whenever the Dark Lord decided he no longer had use for you, regardless of what had to be done to get you. Blaize was quite angry to be deprived of his prize, and so was permitted to 'show' me just how irritated he was. However, in the end, he had to agree to the new arrangement, of course."

She shuddered at the implication, but watched him silently. Horribly, she knew what was coming and wished she could stop it.

He closed his eyes and sighed, tiredly. "Allow me to introduce you to your newest admirer."

Even though she had been expecting it, the words twisted painfully somewhere in the vicinity of her navel. Had she been alone, she might have indulged herself in a good, cathartic cry. She would love nothing better than to have the sincere regard of Severus Snape, but instead it was now commanded of him to feign it.

Commanded, no less, from Lord Voldemort himself.

Of course, he would have to comply. Of course, she would play along to do her small part to help keep him safe.

But how cruel was this charade? It would be no stretch of acting or imagination on her part to pretend to fancy him, to help him in whatever way she could. The problem was that her emotions were already too involved. His acting the suitor, no matter how forced, would be so bittersweet. It would be a miracle to get out of this with both of them alive and well, and her heart intact.

Briefly, she closed her eyes and consciously steeled her Occlumency. Bringing a damp flannel to him, she sat on the edge of the bed and gently washed his face, as it was still bloody. It was a mark of his own weariness of spirit that he allowed the attention. She smiled archly at him, trying to pretend to be unaffected.

"I assure you, Professor, I have had far more distasteful admirers. I dare say I will find you tolerable."

His eyes bored into hers, glittering in the darkness. She had shielded herself from him, but he had already learnt to read her enough to feel the tiny trembling of her hand as she washed his face.

This was surely one of the most vicious things he had ever been asked to do—to feign admiration and tender feelings that he simply was incapable of experiencing—toward a woman who certainly deserved to be cared for by someone worthy. A woman, moreover, who somehow actually seemed to wish for his genuine attention.

Once, he could have been cold and cruel enough to perform the task admirably, without remorse. However, he had long since ceased to take pleasure in deliberate cruelty without good provocation. This attack on her very soul was possibly the most vicious assignment ever given him.

He sat in rigid silence as she tended him. How he was to get her out of this without destroying that core of her that was so naive, he had no idea.

He was surprised to find that even though her innocence and idealism were among the things that annoyed him the most with her, he still wanted to protect and preserve them. If that was even possible!

* * *

The sun poured brightly into the window of the hospital wing, and he opened his eyes slowly. He knew at once where he was, because his own rooms had no windows. The awareness of his location brought with it recollection of how and why he had come to be there. The wounds had been sufficiently tended that he experienced only a minor ache as he woke. He couldn't help smirk to himself. She would have done well as a Healer. It would surely have been a safer occupation for her.

As he gained awareness of his body and his surroundings, he became aware of something soft and warm lying across his chest. Looking to the side of the bed, he saw her, awkwardly asleep in the chair next to him, her small hand lying gently directly over his heart.

The thought that she had sat there all night, next to him, watching over him, caused strange and confusing emotions to stir to life within him. He squashed them at once and attempted to move her hand without waking her, that he might get up and find Albus.

Chocolate brown eyes blinked open sleepily, and met his. She was only half-awake, and did not have the training or the presence of mind to use her Occlumency before opening her eyes. It was a grave weakness in her defenses, which he would have to point out and rectify—later. It was not beneath him to take advantage of it while he could.

She was concerned for him. He had frightened her—not afraid _of_ him, but _for _him, which seemed to be unique to her and Albus Dumbledore. The powerful feelings of caring and compassion, which poured into him in that unguarded instant, were nearly overwhelming. For the first time he could ever recall in his life, he broke the eye contact first, looking away and sitting up at the edge of the bed.

A beautiful blush overspread her face, as though she knew what he had done and seen, though when he looked at her again, she was closed to him. He shook off her attempts to help him sit up, but accepted the water she gave him.

"I am quite well, Professor Lupin," he said, attempting to ease the tense, worried expression of her face. "I need to speak to Albus as soon as may be. Poppy surely has me under 'house arrest' until she clears me. It is almost a guarantee that I will be unable to pass through the door at present without removing the magical wards she uses to attempt to contain me. I would rather not expend the energy required to do so.

"Please inform Albus that I am awake and needing to speak with him."

"Quite unnecessary, Severus. I am here. I was just coming to check on you. Rowena was very sly in her treatment last night, but I must say I appreciate the refreshment of sleep, so no harm done. What is new with Voldemort?"

Severus looked at Rowena with a scowl. "I think I would like to discuss this with you in private, Albus," he said. To the enormous surprise of both men, Rowena immediately stood to leave.

Albus had other ideas.

"Severus, if it concerns her, then I think she needs to be here to listen, don't you? She might have valuable input. Rowena, please sit." He summoned a tray of tea and a variety of scones and crumpets, and conjured his favourite fluffy chair. He sat opposite the bed, smiling benignly.

Severus sighed and distractedly ran his hand through his hair. The ebony strands, never in the best of condition, were still bloody from his injuries, and he pulled his hand away in disgust. Rowena quickly stepped over with cleansing charms before he could find his own wand, and hair and hand were clean again in an instant.

He looked at her angrily. "Thank you," he said sarcastically. "I believe I can manage basic personal hygiene on my own."

"I should have done it last night when I was treating you, and didn't think of it," she said, stung by his anger. She was already feeling awkward and discomposed by the anticipated discussion.

He glowered at her, as though it was her fault that her very existence seemed to have thrown his life into uproar. Not that it had ever been what one could consider 'quiet'.

It was unsettling to look at her, normally so stubborn and defiant, but today meek and almost fearful. Already, association with him was hurting her.

Instead he looked at Albus.

"The Dark Lord is still determined to get at Miss Lupin's research. Lucius, now that he is free—thanks to Narcissa's bribes and Fudge's weakness—is equally determined to get the rest of the Death Eaters out of Azkaban. They feel her research is the fastest way to accomplish this. The December timeline remains the same.

"Miss Lupin has managed to evade the charms of every suitor they have sent her way; now, living here under your protection, she is harder than ever to reach. The Imperious Curse is now out of the question, as they recognise that even if she could not overcome it, you would detect and negate its effects at once. He is not willing, yet, to have her killed, as they need her information."

He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds. His body was still and calm, his voice tightly controlled, but there was an aura of unease about him.

"Narcissa has fostered a 'friendship' with Miss Lupin over the years. She passed a bit of information to Lucius, who passed it immediately to the Dark Lord.

"He is highly amused that you have sheltered Miss Lupin in the very nest with one of his own vipers, a viper moreover that she seems to have had a childhood fancy for. He expects me to take full advantage of the situation."

Dumbledore watched him as he spoke, and frequently glanced at Rowena as well. She did not seem surprised at the news. "Well, Severus. It could be worse. There are many ways we could use this to our advantage. It gives you reason to have more access to Rowena's notes and information, information which we could modify to suit our needs.

"Rowena, are you willing to participate in this?"

She nodded and started to speak, but was interrupted before uttering a syllable, by a loud, emphatic, "_NO!_"

Severus spun on his heel to look angrily at Dumbledore. "Regardless of whether _she_ will, _I_ won't! Albus, this goes too far. We will have to orchestrate a convincing scene where she discovers I am every bit as evil, horrible, and vicious as everyone knows I am, and that will be the end of it."

"Severus… be reasonable. This could be a good opportunity for us, a way to keep you both safe and get behind his defences as well," Dumbledore admonished.

Severus plainly intended to argue further, swelling in indignation, when it was his turn to be interrupted.

"It wouldn't work, anyway," said Rowena, softly. Both men looked at her in surprise. Dumbledore smiled; Severus scowled. Rowena blushed painfully and looked only at her hands clenched in her lap.

"I'm sorry, but it wouldn't. Narcissa has known me for years. She's thrown dozens of men in my path, and been bitterly disappointed when I turned away each one.

"I'm thirty-three years old and have never had any sort of long-term relationship, for Merlin's sake! She knows me too well for me to deny my true feelings with any creditability now."

Severus turned to look back out the window. His thoughts were in painful turmoil. Somehow, amidst it all, he found a part of himself—flattered? Intrigued? Curious? That someone had experienced this depth of emotion for him for all these years was very… interesting. Disturbing, yes, but not altogether distasteful.

Still, any thought of exploring the myriad possibilities had become tainted. Her feelings for him, whatever they might be, ought not to be forced, manipulated, and _soiled_ by the machinations of the Dark Lord! Her purity was such a contrast to that evil; it was a bitter thing to think of participating in the defilement of that innocence. Severus was silent and thoughtful.

"Well, then," said Albus, cheerfully, "are you willing to go along with a friendly charade with Severus? Just to be seen and the like, play through the usual courtship rituals? A few nice dates, some friendly chats about the school grounds when classes resume, those sorts of things?"

"Albus! It's not that easy, and you know it!" Severus snarled. Albus looked at him with a reproachful glance but said nothing, and Severus continued, "They have to believe that I am still with them. A loyal Death Eater never displays any softness or affection—unless tempered with equal measures of cruelty and manipulation. You have no idea how bad it can be. In light of her rather remarkable declaration, it would be all the worse for her to be subjected to that. I will _not_ be a participant!"

Rowena shot to her feet, almost as though propelled there by the rising of her own temper. It was becoming almost a habit for her to stand toe to toe with him in mutual anger. She did not quail—perhaps she was growing immune to his infamous glower.

"Professor Snape!" she snapped in exasperation. "First, I would like you not to speak about me as though I am not here. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions."

His scowl deepened. It could not bode well that she felt the need to quantify her rant by prefacing it with 'first'. His jaw clenched painfully, but he did not interrupt.

"Second, please do not be so arrogant as to think that the lingering of my childhood fascination in any way implies that I am in love with you! I certainly am not! I find you interesting, intelligent, irritating, annoying and entertaining all at once. I enjoy your company when you aren't being a sarcastic prat, and consider you among my friends, your bloody Slytherin '_Rule of A's'_ be damned! However, I assure you I have no intention of throwing myself at your feet or begging for your affection."

He blinked at the 'friends' comment, but said nothing. Her Occlumency was weakened in her current emotional state, but such a contrariety of emotions were warring within her that he could make out nothing coherent—except that she was sincere in her words.

The heightened colour of her face and angry sparkle of her eyes was quite attractive, but it alarmed him to realise he had noticed that fact.

"Third, I assure you that I am perfectly capable of enduring your 'cruelty' in whatever form it may take in this charade. I've certainly experienced enough of it when you were sincere, it would be nothing to face its pretense."

He flinched minutely at this, but continued to stare at her incredulously. Her voice was now trembling and breathless, betraying what it had cost her to deliver this diatribe.

"Finally, I don't think the final decision is just yours to make. If you don't participate, you risk being outed as a spy, which is dangerous to more lives than just yours or mine. The Order needs your information. Besides, I would be more comfortable knowing what I'm facing, than having to worry about what unknown tactic he would try next if you refuse."

Albus sat silently behind them, watching with amusement. The tableau was quite entertaining; the small woman, staring down the much taller man, neither apparently willing to give an inch. Severus spoke at last, his rich baritone voice the deceptive silk of anger… though it was interesting what he chose to address out of that tirade.

"Slytherins do not have friends, Lupin…"

"I am not a Slytherin, Snape."

Albus nearly snorted in his teacup at her deliberate dropping of his title.

"You will regret this. Once begun, I have no control in the situation. I will be expected to 'present' you at various public functions; to parade you about like some common trollop; again and again I will be expected to prove that I have managed to 'control' you. Even then I cannot assure your safety."

"None of us is safe while he's around. I'm willing to do my part. I expect you to do what you have to do. I don't ask you to 'assure' my safety."

He stared into her eyes, almost angry that she was shielded from him. She had at some point during her diatribe refocused her attention so that her Occlumency was now enough to hide her from him. He longed for the moment to use the Legilimens incantation to read her fully. She stared back, immutable, unreadable, and at last he nodded his defeat.

"Very well. The responsibility for this is yours, then. I would not have agreed to it."

"Accepted."

Albus then stood and handed them each a cup of tea. "Well, then, shall we drink to our new arrangement? I will have to ask you to be discreet amongst the students, of course. Though many of the Death Eaters have children here, Rowena, so Severus must maintain all aspects of his charade at all times when in view of any but our most trusted allies. It won't be easy."

Rowena nodded her understanding, and Albus continued in tones that were revoltingly cheerful.

"Now… how shall we start this off? Tom had the privilege of ordering its inception; allow me to arrange the first date, may I?" In spite of the circumstances, Albus was smiling brightly, his eyes twinkling merrily. He obviously found no small amount of humour in the situation.

Severus scowled in distaste. A 'first date'. With a _Lupin_. On orders of the Dark Lord. Surely nothing good could come of this!

Albus produced a set of theatre tickets to _'Taming of the Shrew' _ for the upcoming Friday. "I think dinner and the theatre would be a nice evening, don't you? My information has it that the Malfoys have season tickets. Since Lucius is newly freed, he will certainly want the wizarding world to see him out and about. It will also allow Severus to be seen as embarking on his new orders with alacrity."

Albus handed the tickets to Severus with a smile; the younger man accepted them with a scowl. Severus then glanced at Rowena and raised an inquiring brow. She met his eyes very briefly and nodded mutely.

"Never wear full-length sleeves as long as we are maintaining this charade, Miss Lupin," he said in his best 'Professor' voice, striving for the impression that he was unaffected by this turn of events.

"Death Eaters always conceal their Mark. By making certain that all can see you are un-Marked, you will be spared some attempts to include you in certain… activities. Death Eaters are allowed to _associate_ with non-Death Eaters; some even are married to such. Narcissa herself is not one, although hers is vanity of not wanting to submit to the Mark. By keeping your arms bare, you will be proclaiming to all that you are not among the loyal. It will actually provide you a measure of safety."

He stared at her inscrutably for a moment longer, while she struggled to maintain an air of indifference.

"I will meet you at your rooms at four o'clock on Friday." And with that, he withdrew his concealed Dark wand, cancelled the wards which imprisoned him in the hospital wing, and left.

When he was gone, Rowena slumped back into her chair and buried her face in her trembling hands. Albus patted her comfortingly on the back and then left her alone with her thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7: First Date

This is a fanfiction based in J KR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a _lot_ of help with this story!

**Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.**

Severus and Rowena go on their first date together—and encounter the Malfoys. It could be volatile.

* * *

Chapter 7: First Date

* * *

Rowena spent much of Thursday sleeping, after being up all night with Severus in the hospital wing. But in the afternoon, she sought out Minerva. With her escort and feminine advice, she went to Hogsmeade and purchased a new dress for her 'date' the next day.

She was pleased to find that in spite of public appearances to the contrary, Minerva liked and respected Severus a great deal, friendly and sometimes heated House rivalry notwithstanding.

"He's had a hard life, Rowena," Minerva said gravely, as they strolled to the village at a leisurely pace. "Harder than I think any of us can understand. I do think he's too severe with the students, and I won't dispute the accusations of bias toward his own House, but then neither would he, so that should be no surprise.

"However, there is also no denying he has done a great deal for our side. I have a high degree of respect for him. Albus trusts him implicitly, which is enough for me. I think he chooses to be aloof to protect himself."

They had a fun day of shopping. Rowena was pleased with the dress, and with Minerva's kind words of encouragement.

* * *

On Friday, she spent the entire day in her rooms, mostly out of nerves. She didn't want to see him, or anyone else, while her emotions were in such turmoil.

She spent a great deal of time on her appearance, though part of her felt more than a little foolish for behaving like a love-sick schoolgirl. Her hair was the most time-consuming. In the end, she decided on a style that swept it up away from her face and neck, then let it cascade out of the top of the style to fall in ringlets just below her shoulders. It was a more mature look than she usually wore, with her neck gracefully revealed, and looked elegant without being too severe.

The dress was a deep, rich plum-coloured silk with elbow-length sleeves. The neckline was a gentle heart-shaped scoop, which accented a snug bodice. A decorative gather at the drop-waist collected the material before allowing it to fall gracefully into a long, full skirt. It was elegant in its simplicity, and the colour brightened her complexion.

She wore only the lightest brushes of makeup; she normally didn't pay much attention to her appearance, so she had very little confidence in applying it properly. The only jewelry she owned was the pearl necklace and earrings Remus had given her years ago, but she chose not to wear those.

At last she decided she was 'done' with her toilette and looked critically at her reflection in the mirror. She would never attain the graceful, elegant beauty of the likes of Narcissa Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange (back in the days before Azkaban, when she had been beautiful). Still, she decided she was reasonably attractive in her own way.

The knock at the door startled her out of her reverie, and with a pounding heart and shielded mind, she opened the door.

He was _breathtaking_! She could only stare for a moment in unabashed appreciation. Still in black, of course, but his dress robes were of a much finer cut and material than she had ever seen him wear. He still wore his clothing like a suit of armour, but today it looked more like a second skin. His black hair was clean and shiny, though still very fine and hung as lankly as it ever did. The cut of his shirt and robes displayed the definition of shoulders and waist. His fair skin, sharply chiseled features and prominent nose might not meet the average person's definition of 'handsome', but she had always thought him striking.

"Do you wish to stand there and gape at me all evening, Professor Lupin, or would you care to invite me inside?" he asked with sardonic amusement.

She blushed brilliantly and moved away from the door to allow him to enter, closing the door behind him. He stepped inside with his cat-like grace and turned instead to look at her. Her blush deepened at his silent visual appraisal, and her flesh tingled pleasantly as though his gaze had been a touch.

"Well, I dare say we will give Narcissa something to gossip about for weeks to come if nothing else, hmm? You look very nice, Professor," he said.

"So do you," she answered earnestly, though she sounded slightly breathless.

He scoffed derisively at this and his voice dripped in sarcasm. "I assure you, it is not necessary to feign interest in my physical appearance. Not even the Dark Lord would believe that. It is enough that he believes you enamoured of my intellect and ensnared by my scintillating personality."

She glared at him, hurt that he would start out the evening argumentatively, though she realised she oughtn't to be surprised by the behaviour.

"As there is no one here to try to convince, I would appreciate it if you would take me at my word. I've always found you attractive, as you surely know by now. You look particularly well this evening. Now, shall we go and get this over with?" she said brusquely. She turned to the door huffily.

He chided himself internally. It had been his sincere intention to attempt to decrease the unpleasantness of this charade as much as possible, but instead he had irritated her already. He placed a hand on the door, effectively holding it shut, and looked down at her.

"Listen, Lupin. This is going to be difficult at best. During the times in which we might be alone, like this, where no one else can see or hear us, I fully intend to drop any pretense, and would like you to do so as well.

"You intrigue me. If not for this current situation, I might have liked to find out why that is. This pretense complicates things greatly. I would like to be assured that when we are alone, you will not feign… anything, that you will be honest with me. I will do the same."

Her anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, and she nodded, blushing. She 'intrigued' him! That had to be a good thing, didn't it? Suddenly her heart was beating very fast, sounding like a bass drum in her ears. She found her courage and offered him an arch smile.

"Of course, Snape," she teased. "Are we to address each other by surnames, then?"

The corners of his mouth quirked a bit in the slightest of smiles, and he gave an even smaller bow of his head. "Touché, Rowena." He collected her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm as he led her out the door. "We will walk to Hogsmeade and Apparate to Diagon Alley."

The moment he touched her hand she felt as though she had been electrified, as though her body had somehow been wired or affected to feel sensations more fully. She held a little more tightly to his arm than was strictly necessary, in the attempt to still the trembling of her hand, and hoped he wouldn't notice. If he did notice, he made no sign.

* * *

The day was sunny and warm, and they strolled at a leisurely pace. Albus and Minerva watched them leave, smiling conspiratorially at each other, but unseen by the two young people.

"You seem skilled enough at your healing techniques, Rowena. What is the real reason you did not become a Healer when you chose not to become an Auror? Why you didn't become an Auror, for that matter?" he asked, by way of starting conversation. By rule, he tried never to initiate conversation with anyone unless necessary. None of his normal rules seemed to apply to this woman.

Besides, he was not completely satisfied with her earlier account on either topic, and wondered what spin she might put on it now.

"Are you fishing for more compliments, Severus? I suspect that you know at least part of the answers already," she said, smiling up at him with an air of affected suspicion.

He gave a noise of derision. "I hardly expect your answers to be the least bit complimentary. And I do have an idea of what they might be. But I would like to hear it from you."

She shrugged. "Okay then. I took care of Wilkes in the hospital, the summer before my final year; I think I told you that before? He didn't come out and _say_ you were a Death Eater, but he showed me his mark, and implied it. That was enough for me.

"I was beginning to get cold feet about the Auror training before then, but I generally believe in forcing myself to face my fears rather than run away from them. I doubt my cowardice would have prevented me from at least taking the necessary tests to apply. It was the idea of actual combat, I think, that decided me in the end.

"I was not willing to place myself in the potential position of coming against you in a fight." She grinned mischievously at him, and added, "I would have been quite upset to have to hurt you."

He actually gave a very slight chuckle at this. "You do not seem to suffer from lack of confidence! Very well then, for some reason your fascination with me prevented your becoming an Auror. That is not a very safe career choice in the best of times, so I will not feign guilt that you did not pursue that goal. I may have indirectly saved your life. You have my leave to thank me later."

She laughed lightly and squeezed his arm. "Yes, Professor," she said teasingly.

He raised a brow at her, but his expression was one of mild amusement. "What about becoming a Healer? Why did you avoid that? You seem to like St. Mungo's, and I suspect you are skilled enough to have qualified for the training. Your Potions mark would not have hindered you much, I think."

She shrugged again. "Another side of the same coin. I saw more and more victims of the war, saw first hand what the Death Eaters had done, and found it… _disturbing_. I had even gotten to the point where I thought I could detect which poisons and acids were yours. No one else had the refined subtlety of your work… and that only bothered me more.

"I decided that accepting your participation on an intellectual basis was different from being able to handle it emotionally on a day-to-day level. It was hard to maintain my fantasy of your eventual redemption if I was continually reminded of what I viewed as your 'fall'.

"Then there was the fact that all bodies were funneled through my father's department. How many dead Death Eaters did I watch him have to identify? In the case of some of them, I actually helped make the identification because they had been classmates. Sometimes we had to do a great deal of gruesome reconstruction before we had something capable of being identified. I became constantly worried that the next one might be you…." She shuddered slightly at the recollection before she could continue.

"So, when I was offered the research position, it seemed ideal, and I have truly loved it, for the most part. More so when Fudge is not tying my hands, of course."

She fell silent, blushing slightly at her admissions, which gave him still more evidence of the intense nature of her fascination with him. There was no regret in the embarrassment, however. She wanted him to know the truth.

He was grave and thoughtful, causing the silence to stretch horribly. At last he spoke, but his voice had none of its usual sarcasm. Instead, there was self-disgust in every word.

"How is it possible that you know that I was a Death Eater, that you saw first-hand evidence of what I did, what I was capable of—what I am _still_ capable of—and yet you are willingly here now? I don't know how to begin to fathom this."

He looked at her intently, boring his soul piercing gaze into her, as though he could understand if he could just see deeply enough. Almost without thought he reached his hand up to lay across her fingers where they curled on his arm. She had stopped trembling at some point during their walk, but he felt the tremor again as his hand touched hers. It was a strange, but not unpleasant experience to have a woman respond positively to him. Still, he could not understand her.

"You blush when I look at you, and tremble when I touch you. You claim to consider me a friend and stand up for me to others even when their accusations are well founded. How can this be, when I am constantly haunted by the specters of my past? How can you dismiss it all so easily? I don't know what to make of you."

She tightened her fingers briefly on his arm. Thoughtfully, she said, "I don't know why it is, Severus. How do any of these things happen? Something inside me recognised a kindred spirit in you that first day on the train: lonely, isolated, seeking refuge in solitude and books. It wouldn't have been hard for me to take a similar path.

"You seemed to me to have reason for your bitterness. Who had more justification for vengeance than you did? I saw what Potter and Black did to you. You aren't a person to willingly allow yourself to be humiliated and victimised without retaliation. Nor are you a person to use victim status as some sort of a badge or tool for manipulations. It seemed logical that you would turn to the largest promise of power, so that you could make them pay for what they did. I was more surprised that Remus escaped unscathed—I quite expected you to smite them all to the ground."

He looked at her, astonished, and his tone betrayed his surprise. "Bloody hell, you have a bloodthirsty imagination for a Ravenclaw! Did you really think I would kill them for schoolboy pranks? Oh… I admit, I longed to do-in Black. Our enmity ran far deeper than you can imagine. But Bellatrix insisted on that honour, and she attained it at last, did she not?

"The others fell beneath my notice as soon as I was out of school and out of contact with them. Even Potter. I would have gladly killed any of them, if they had stumbled across my path, but none of them were worth the effort to actively seek out.

"No, my lust for vengeance—and you are right, that is what drove me to Dark Magic—was wholly directed towards another. I slaked that lust almost immediately after joining the Death Eaters. I found, as I'm sure is often found, that the resolution of a long-held desire for vengeance is not nearly so satisfying as one expects."

He fell silent, remembering. That dissatisfaction had only increased his bitterness, and his whole-hearted participation in the Dark Lord's commands. Part of his bitterness, even now, stemmed from the wretched knowledge that he had no one to blame but himself. As Albus always said, it was a man's choices which make him what he is—and Severus' choices had been progressively more horrific.

For a while they walked in silence. She looked around and realised they were nearly to Hogsmeade, and opportunity for open conversation would then be at an end. For some reason, he seemed more communicative this evening than he had ever been with her before, perhaps in response to her honesty. It seemed the ideal opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging at her for years.

"What brought you back? Was it Lily?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her, frowning. "What has Lily Evans got to do with anything?"

She did not miss the fact that he did not refer to her as 'Lily Potter'.

"Well, I used to watch you all the time… and while I was watching you, you were watching her…."

He shook his head then, but made no move to continue walking. Perhaps he, too, was reluctant to leave this opportunity for some level of understanding.

"That requires complicated explanation. However, I think I would like you to know the truth of it."

He waved to a bench that was along the path between Hogsmeade and the school. As school was not yet in session, there was virtually no chance of anyone coming upon them, and he had certain knowledge that Pettigrew was currently on another errand.

She sat sideways, leaning against the arm of the bench so she could face him fully, and he sat similarly, so they were facing each other. Still, he looked mostly at his hands, or off in the distance, but rarely directly at her.

He was very silent for a long time, trying to sort his thoughts. Her honesty gave him the desire to repay in kind, and perhaps if she truly understood what he was, she would be more willing to end this dangerous game.

"Lily…. Do you know the Muggle Psychologist, Freud? He would have loved this. Lily fascinated me because she was much like my mother. Her physical appearance was remarkably similar, except the eye colour. And yet my mother was weak, where Lily was strong. Or at least that is what I believed for many years.

"She thwarted Potter's advances for years—she put him in his place more frequently and more thoroughly than anything I ever did. I respected that, and admired it. It was strength she had that my mother did not.

"My mother died because she refused to defend herself or leave a horrible situation, and claimed it was due to 'love' and wanting to 'protect' me. I believed she could have made both of ours lives better if she had only been stronger.

"Lily represented to me what my mother could have been. It was not a romantic fascination, but rather a fantasy of how my life could have been different, better. Once I gave myself fully to the Dark Magic, it no longer mattered. I would be powerful; I would never again be anyone's victim. My mother's actions no longer mattered. Lily Evans no longer mattered. Potter, Black, Pettigrew, your brother, they would all 'get theirs' and be sorry."

He made a derisive noise and looked away from her, his eyes distant as though remembering.

"But it was also the memory of my mother that 'brought me back' as you say, though I do not truly consider myself 'back' in any way. I told you once--unkindly, but honestly--that some actions are beyond forgiveness, some people are unforgivable. I am such a man."

She made a move to reach out to him, to say something to contradict him, but he raised his hand to stop her. It was as though now that he was speaking of this, he didn't want to stop until he had finished.

"When we learned of the Prophecy—and it was I who heard the partial recital of it, which started the Dark Lord's obsession to kill Harry Potter—he became obsessed with finding the parents before the child was even born. It was I that surmised Lily's child was one of the possibilities, very soon after they happily announced her pregnancy. I knew then that her motherly affection would lead her to do whatever she had to do to protect her child.

"In that instant, it was as though my mother was alive again and I had her fate and life in my hands. If I can be said to have ever had a moment of 'moral clarity' or an 'epiphany', if you like, it was then.

"Suddenly the people the Dark Lord wanted to exterminate or enslave stopped being useless 'Mudblood' or 'Muggle-loving' chattel and became again to me what they are, what they always should have been—human beings."

It was an unpleasant recollection, to recall that humiliating time in his life when he had permitted himself to wallow in a smothering stew of remorse and self-pity until he could not recognise himself. Only his indomitable will rescued him from that pit, converting those weaker emotions to a functional level of self-loathing, which still drove him to this day.

"I came to Dumbledore and confessed all, certain that he would send me to Azkaban to be Kissed by the Dementors immediately. He decided, instead, that I should be given a chance to help 'repay' the damage I caused, to 'redeem' myself—as though such thing is possible."

He scoffed and shook his head in derision, at least half of which she thought was self-directed. His voice was increasingly bitter as he continued. "I failed. I was unable to save Lily, and it was her sacrifice, her actions which saved the life of her son, not anything I did.

"So here I am. Mistrusted and loathed by nearly all, though none as much as they ought. I do what I have to do, because no one else can, and if I am killed at some point in the process, it is no less than I deserve."

He snorted again in self-mockery. "Is that quite maudlin enough for you, Rowena? Yet it is true, not the whole truth perhaps, but enough for you to know exactly what sort of person I am."

Now she did reach out to him, and gently took his hand, looking warmly into his eyes with compassion and understanding. Not pity—he was too strong to need her pity, but true compassion and empathy.

"I have always known what sort of person you are, Severus. I knew you would find your way back someday—and I _do_ believe you to be 'back' regardless of what you say—because you were never truly one of them. Maybe in action and deed for a time, but not in your heart, not the core of yourself.

"You did something very wrong; I won't try and deny it or argue that point with you. On the other hand, anyone can make a mistaken choice—even a horrible one. Everyone deserves a second chance, no matter how terrible those mistakes might be—especially when a person is so willing to strive so much to make reparations. You need to allow yourself to believe in your own redemption, to forgive yourself."

He stood with brisk energy and pulled her with him, tucked her hand back in his arm, and recommenced walking towards Hogsmeade. He was angry again; his strides so long that she was again finding herself nearly trotting to keep up with him.

He snapped at her, "You are so idealistic, Lupin! We are not talking of 'mistakes'. I did not forget to steam my Asphodel before adding it to my infusion of Wormwood! I did not cheat on a Transfiguration exam. I did not steal a broomstick from the school shed. Those are _MISTAKES_!

"My creations have killed people, more times over than I can count or care to remember. There can be no 'reparations' for the things which I have done. The Dark Magic still beckons me like a lover, like a horrible addiction that I simultaneously loathe and long for. I will never be completely free of that."

She matched him tone for tone in exasperation, though her voice lost some of its force in breathlessness from the exertion of keeping up with him. "Of course you won't. It's part of who you are. It just means you have to be more aware and cautious than the average person with your future choices. Just because you have made poor choices in the past doesn't mean you will again. You doubt your own strength. I don't."

He slowed his strides to be a more comfortable walking pace for her, and then looked at her doubtingly. "I am not comfortable with the level of trust you seem to wish to place upon me. I do not deserve it, I do not desire it, and I certainly would not advise it. You do not know me nearly so well as you think you do, Rowena, and misplaced trust can be a very dangerous thing."

"Warning duly noted. However, as I am an adult and capable of making my own decisions, you will forgive me if I do not take your advice. You are quite correct that one of us does not know you as well as he or she thinks—I don't believe it is I."

He snorted in disgust and shook his head, but said nothing more. They had arrived at Hogsmeade, and he seemed more than a little relieved. The entire conversation had gotten completely out of hand, and delved much more deeply into murky territory of… _emotion_… than he was at all comfortable dealing with.

Now, at least, he would have ample excuse to slip back into the comfortable, cold reclusively he had worn like a shield for most of his life. His face was closed; his black eyes inscrutable once again as he placed his hand over hers where it still rested in the crook of his arm.

"Allow me. We go to Diagon Alley."

When she nodded, he Apparated both of them away.

* * *

They appeared on the sidewalk outside a fancy-appearing restaurant, "_The Black Dragon_", and he sedately guided her inside.

It was elegant and refined, tastefully decorated in muted hues. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling to provide soft, subdued lighting. It was equally suited to small, romantic dinners as to large parties for special occasions. In one corner a string quartet played softly. The tables were arranged with plants, trellises, and other similar dividers so that even though it was a large room with many tables, each one had the air of semi-privacy. Some of the plant arrangements boasted fountains, gently gurgling in the background.

A very stuffy, formal appearing Maitre d' greeted them at once upon entering the building. Rowena was engrossed in looking around the room, so she barely noticed when Severus said simply, "Reservations for Severus Snape."

They were led to a small, centrally located table. It had the same air of semi-privacy as the rest, but she noticed it had a clear view of the door. This effectively gave the appearance, for their little game, of wanting to be in solitude and unnoticed, yet assuring that if anyone arrived who ought to see… well, they could hardly miss seeing.

A very expensive bottle of champagne was brought to their table at once, and two beautiful flutes were filled wordlessly. They were then handed heavy parchment menus, and the Maitre d' bowed and left. Rowena surmised that the champagne had been previously arranged as well, since she had not seen Severus request it, nor the waiter offer it.

She looked at him curiously, but he was already studiously examining his menu—which she thought was a ruse to avoid her glance. Apparently he had been here often enough before to be quite familiar with it, though she had never been here or even noticed it.

He finally gave up on the menu and looked at her sardonically. Some of his previous anger seemed to have dissipated, at least for the present, though his voice was the familiar sarcastic bitterness that was his norm.

"I rather thought something extravagant was in order. It is not everyday a man goes on his first real 'date' at the age of thirty-seven, regardless of the reasons. Now, is your menu in a language foreign to you, or can you manage by yourself?"

She blushed again at his piercing gaze and glanced at her menu—it was thankfully in English, though, for a moment, she expected it to be in French. "I've never been in here before. You don't really expect me to believe you've never dated, do you?"

He was scowling again and no longer looking at her, but back at the menu. "Believe what you wish, Miss Lupin. You know enough to reason it out on your own, if you so choose. If not for the pureblood name of 'Snape' I would have no claim to any rational woman's interest or attentions. As I refuse to be used for such a convenience, having no desire to carry on the name myself, there is little point in dating.

"As for not having been here before, I should think not. Once you have decided on your meal choice, look around you and observe. You will understand at once, I am certain."

He then lapsed into silence, though she was smiling, trying not to laugh at the couched insult, 'no claim to any rational woman's interest or attentions'. So, he considered her irrational, did he? She found it amusing.

The menu was full of gourmet dishes of every sort. Her own tastes rarely extended into the exotic, but she at last found something that appealed to her and closed her menu. He did the same, and raised an eyebrow at her expectantly. She realized this was one of those sorts of places in which the man was expected to place the order, and while a small rebellious urge struck her to insist on placing it herself, she decided not to spoil his 'first' date.

"The filet mignon, medium-rare, with salad and steamed vegetables, please."

He nodded and gave her a rather feral grin. His tone was approving but teasing as he said, "Ah, a lady who appreciates a little blood with a good steak. Nice choice."

"Filet mignon should never be over-cooked," she said, defensively.

"Indeed."

He was looking at her rather triumphantly, as though he suspected her independent nature rebelled against his ordering for her. She looked away and found to her dismay that she had allowed her Occlumency discipline to relax. Steeling herself, she returned his gaze with an arch look.

He leaned forward conspiratorially, as a suitor might if he wanted to speak and not risk being overheard. His face was its usual impartial mask, but she leaned forward as well to hear him. His tone was scolding and reproachful.

"You relax your Occlumency when you are angry or annoyed, Rowena. This is the same problem Potter has, and will likely prove dangerous to you both. In your case, weakness in _your_ defences could adversely affect _me_. I expect now that you are aware of the situation, you will strive to rectify it."

If she had been mildly annoyed before, she was genuinely angry now, and leaned back, affronted. But she held his gaze so that he could see that she was capable of maintaining her discipline.

"I don't usually relax my defences for anyone," she said angrily.

That wasn't _entirely_ true. Until she had met him again, it had been years since she had felt the need to _use_ her Occlumency with any regularity. But, when she did use it, she generally maintained it without trouble. She continued without pause, lest he realise the exaggeration.

"It just so happens that I _trust_ you, and haven't been guarding myself closely enough."

"Indeed," he said again. "I have warned you against that as well. I am not a man to be trusted."

She sniffed and looked away, refusing to resume that circular conversation. Instead she looked about the room, at the other patrons she could see from her seat. At once she understood why she had never been here or even noticed it before; she drew in her breath sharply.

This beautiful, elegant restaurant was full of Dark Wizards. There was no real identifying feature, but there were mannerisms and style of dress that made her instinctively suspicious. By Severus's advice as to the length of her sleeves, she even rather fancied she could guess who were Death Eaters and who were simply 'allies'. Worse, a few women here alone with men had the semi-blank look of someone possibly under the influence of the Imperious Curse. She was horrified, but attempted to conceal it when she looked back at him.

"Just so," he said, in answer to her unspoken comment. "That is the common means for Death Eaters to obtain willing female companionship.

"Another piece to your 'Severus Snape, and why he has not dated' puzzle, hmm? I am just arrogant enough not to wish companionship that must be coerced," he said dryly.

She noticed several of the occupants of other tables were also looking at them. Severus exchanged the briefest of nods with a few of these, who returned the acknowledgement with a variety of leering grins and smirks. She was embarrassed in the extreme.

She hadn't known that being seen with Severus in this role would feel so degrading, as though she was nothing more than a common strumpet he had picked up off the street. This is precisely what he had objected against and warned her of when he was arguing with Dumbledore, of course. She had insisted, so now she needed to play the role as she agreed.

To that effect, she studiously focused her attention on Severus, forcing herself to imagine that this was a genuine 'date', and pretend he was here because he wanted to be here, not because of a sinister 'assignment'.

The waiter came and Severus placed their orders. She then picked up her as of yet untouched champagne and held it up. In a playful tone, she toasted him.

"Well, then, to Severus Snape and the very great honour he has bestowed upon me, to allow me to be the woman chosen, in all the world, to share his first date."

He snorted, but picked up his glass and clinked it gently with hers, stating wryly, "To Rowena Lupin, the only woman in all the world who would consider such a thing an honour."

She laughed lightly and drank. It was delicious, cold and crisp. The warmth of the alcohol filled her and allowed her to relax and be slightly less nervous. She maintained her expression of warm interest—not at all a pretense on her part, and asked lightly, "So, what does the esteemed Hogwarts Potions master do in his spare time? You can't always be brewing potions or escorting hapless scientists to theatrical productions. Do you write poetry and sonnets for your lovers? Play Quidditch? Have a secret fascination for Muggle literature?"

He actually chuckled at this, a rich, rumbling sound from deep within his chest. It was a pleasant sound that warmed her far more than the champagne.

"Can you really imagine me writing poetry? Ridiculous! Perhaps an ode to my cauldron might be in order?"

She laughed, too. He smirked before continuing. "I do not, as you well know, _play_ Quidditch. I do follow the Falmouth Falcons rather closely but I rarely attend games.

"As far as literature, I have a fascination for all literature, Muggle or not. Of course, in certain company I am considered rather rude and uncouth for the Muggle portion of that. As I am primarily considered to be an unpleasant git in general, in all the circles I traverse, that opinion is of no concern.

"I believe you are aware that I share similar tastes in music as you do, though you seem to lean towards Mozart, while I prefer Bach, and can only stomach Beethoven intermittently."

His intense gaze rarely left her eyes as he spoke. It was a very heady thing, to have his attention so wholly focused upon her.

"And so you? What are your interests besides fiendishly complex maths and orphaned waifs?"

"Reading," she said at once. "I devour any book I can get my hands on. I love Poe, have a real fondness for the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, and enjoy Shakespeare greatly. I also like the lighter materials of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. I do the volunteer work at St. Mungo's, play wizard chess at every opportunity, and then otherwise keep pretty much to myself and my research."

A very cultured female voice broke over them just then. "Oh, how positively charming! Severus, darling, how very quaint to see you here like this, with a fellow professor if I have my information correct? It's _Professor_ Rowena Lupin, now, is it not? How lovely to see you again, Rowena, dear.

"You know, if you didn't like poor Orion, you could have just asked me to arrange a little meeting with Severus. He's been a dear family friend for so many years, I'm sure I could have managed something. How many years have you had your wand lit for him? I suppose it was cruel of me not to do something about it long ago, but honestly I didn't think you were quite his type."

Narcissa Malfoy was standing over their table, a warm smile on her face that did nothing to hide the maliciousness of her general character. She was positively gorgeous, causing Rowena to immediately feel like a plain, drab sparrow next to an elegant swan. It was impossible not to feel jealous of the other woman's beauty, regardless of the personality underneath.

The Malfoy Matriarch was perfection personified—not a line on her face or a hair out of place, wearing a strapless, elegant black dress, which hugged her slender form seductively, as though painted onto her flesh. She wore a choker of large diamonds around her neck and matching ones dripped from her ears. They glittered as coldly as her eyes. Her hand was tucked delicately through the arm of her husband, Lucius, who was surveying the two seated diners with sardonic amusement.

Rowena met the attack with a warm smile of her own, accompanied by an inquiring expression and a mildly sarcastic tone. "I wasn't aware of appointing you my social secretary, Narcissa. I don't need your help in arranging my private life, but I do thank you for your concern."

Narcissa gave a high little laugh. "Oh, Rowena, you are too droll. Of course you need my assistance, dear, or you might end up with some Mudblood or worse. You are on dangerous grounds as a half-blood yourself, you know. The Snape line is too long and pure to be tainted with a half-blood. You had best set your sights lower, soon. You aren't getting any younger. Tick-tock, tick-tock."

This was an empty warning, as wizard life spans and fertility last much longer than Muggles', but one that Narcissa enjoyed using nonetheless. Rowena scoffed and tried to look disdainful, in spite of her inner insecurities.

"Honestly, Narcissa. How is it that one friendly outing translates to 'setting my sights'? What business is it of yours?" she asked coolly.

Lucius spoke then, his voice equally cultured, with added silk to the tones as one who is accustomed to being listened to. His smile hid more than his wife's did, as though he was more in practise of appearing genuinely warm and friendly. He was also handsomely and expensively attired; his silver-blond hair as perfect as Narcissa's

"Narcissa, love, where are your manners? Severus, it is quite a pleasant surprise to see you in feminine company. I do hope you will allow me to encourage you to bring your lovely companion to our Summer Fete?"

He then turned his perfect smile upon Rowena. "We enjoy hosting balls at our home upon occasion. It allows the opportunity to be surrounded by our friends in a more casual environment. Severus rarely attends, and never in company. As my lovely wife says, he has been a close family friend for many years. Please forgive her insinuations as to your heritage. Any friend of Severus' is a friend of ours."

Severus at last took this as his cue for introductions, having observed with interest how Rowena would handle herself against the two Malfoys, she blatant and he subtle.

"Lucius, this is Professor Rowena Lupin, as Narcissa has said. She has been given the newly created teaching position of 'Magical Theory and Research'. Rowena, you already know Narcissa. This is Lucius Malfoy, her husband and a long time ally of Snape House."

Lucius gave a small, rich laugh and extended his hand, which Rowena accepted. "Ah, Severus, always the cautious one. I do not believe, Professor Lupin, that I have ever heard him refer to anyone as 'friend'. Quite tiresome, don't you agree?"

"I wouldn't presume, Mr. Malfoy, to make recommendations to Severus as to whom to call 'friend'," she said with careful politeness.

He chuckled again, still gripping her hand gently, and replied, "Please, you must call me Lucius, Professor. I think I begin to see now some of your appeal to Severus. He has never had much in the way of a true supporter, and every man needs at least one, don't you agree?"

"I do indeed, Lucius. Please call me Rowena."

He bowed over her hand. "Rowena, then. I'm glad to see my friend has found such support, regardless of whether he feels he needs it." Then, smilingly, he would have kissed her hand, except she pulled it away rather abruptly.

He frowned at the action, his fair skin rapidly flushing red with anger. It was obvious that here was a man that could swing to sudden rages in an instant and was not accustomed to being rejected in any way. For a moment, she was genuinely frightened, though she did not drop his gaze and tried hard not to betray her fear to him.

Narcissa, surprisingly, diffused the situation by placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Come, Darling, you didn't think you would get by with that after all I've told you? I am surprised she allowed you to touch her hand! She is quite the frigid little creature. She has that burning, shocking thing she has done to nearly anyone who tries to touch her. She paid you quite the compliment in shaking hands."

He allowed himself to be mollified, though he still gave Rowena a dark look as he bowed to them. With Narcissa's insistent tugging on his arm, they went away.

Rowena released the breath that she didn't realise she had been holding, and looked at Severus. He was looking at her appraisingly, a small smile playing about his lips.

"It is rather dangerous to annoy Lucius," he said dryly.

"It is rather dangerous to attempt to kiss me when I don't want it, even if it was just my hand," she retorted, equally dryly, though she clasped her hands together on her lap so that he wouldn't see them trembling. The altercation had frightened her more than she'd care to admit.

"Burning? Shocking? What surprises do you hide in that tiny frame, Rowena? What stories has Narcissa been able to tell Lucius, which make him believe it is a compliment just to be allowed to shake your hand?"

She gave him a small, mischievous smile, but her eyes were clouded by recollections. "My first research project—and one that I have never documented or shared with anyone—was to address my overwhelming fear at the time. The assault from Warrington left me feeling angry and vulnerable, and I determined it wouldn't happen again. So….

"_Navitas texi_," she said, a wandless incantation, and then held out her hand to Severus.

"Don't grab my hand, but touch it lightly," she instructed.

He reached out with a curious expression on his face, and immediately jerked his hand back as though burnt. Looking at it closely, he saw he was uninjured, but the shock had been quite unpleasant.

"I got the idea from the fence around the family farm. My mum's parents are Muggles. My granddad used electric fence to keep the cattle in the fields. It's harmless to touch it, but the shock is very unpleasant, and so they avoid it. I can cast that at any time, even if I can't reach my wand, as long as I can speak. It won't negate, even if I am unconscious, until I negate it. That could be a safety risk I realise, but I have no intention to change it.

"I can also increase the intensity so that it will cause damage and burns, which I have only occasionally had to do with the more _persistent._ Many of Narcissa's 'friends' she has sent my way have left either shocked or burned, and occasionally both."

He nodded approvingly. "Well, that leaves me with less concern for your physical safety than I have been. I'm afraid that whether you realise it or not, we are now committed to attending the Malfoy's 'Summer Fete'. You may find you have need of that trick before it is over."

She sighed and nodded. "I'll have to have Minerva help me shop again. I'm sure I have nothing appropriate. I'll need just the right dress to bolster my confidence enough to keep me from feeling so much the mouse amongst the serpents!"

He gave a small smile again and shook his head. "You will indeed be among serpents, but anyone who takes you for a mouse will be dangerously mistaken. Small and innocent you may appear, Miss Lupin, but you hide a great deal more surprises than I have given you credit for."

She blushed at the praise, and was grateful that their meal arrived then. More serious conversation gave way to discussion of literature. Severus took great pleasure in deriding her over her enjoyment of the works of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters.

"I had not imagined you, the Rational Ravenclaw, to be enamoured with romances. Do tell, which amongst those works are your favourites? I have been told, by the simpering strumpets who want my name and what little recognition that accompanies it, that I bear strong resemblance to the Heathcliff character in that _Wuthering Heights_ book.

"I have read it, though it was a long, hard slog and had quite an unsatisfactory ending…"

"_You_ have read _Wuthering Heights_?" she asked incredulously.

"I am Head of Slytherin House, Rowena," he said, apparently affronted. "I take my duties very seriously. The parents of my students depend upon me to be the guardian of their children. Nothing enters my House without my knowledge. I have read every scrap of revolting, unimaginative literature that has ever passed through the door to my House. I have listened to every mawkish, vapid song—Muggle or wizarding."

He nodded at her look of shock.

"Yes, you may well pity me for this. It is all the more horrific when you understand that I am blest with prodigious recollection. I have the grave misfortune of remembering every lyric, every grating note.

"I'm sure, if I sincerely wanted an ode to my cauldron, I could find the proper verses for one somewhere in the vast caverns of my memory, without having to go to any trouble on my own," he said with playful sarcasm.

"You actually… what… go through the students' belongings?" she asked, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Not all of Slytherin's reputation is undeserved. As Head of House it is my duty to be aware of what occurs within," he said dismissively.

"So why does Slytherin still _have_ such a reputation if you've been watching them so hawkishly for the last sixteen years?" she asked with genuine interest.

"Almost seventeen, thank you. It is my duty to _know_ what occurs within my House, Rowena. It is not necessary to _stop_ it." He gave her a wicked smirk, which was rewarded with more giggles.

"Okay, then I want to hear what you were going to say about _Wuthering Heights_," she said, leaning forward with interest. "Some people have compared you to Heathecliff?"

He nodded, haughtily. "I find the comparison insulting. I dare say if I had gone to all that trouble to exact vengeance, I would not have quit it at the very moment of its fruition."

Rowena laughed again and nodded. "Yes, well that's not one of my favourites, anyway. I find it very depressing. If he really loved her, he wouldn't have _wanted_ revenge. If she had really loved him, she wouldn't have married someone else. They were both childish, selfish, and cruel to each other, and then surprised when the other one behaved the same way."

His voice was thick with true sarcasm when he responded, "But isn't that the very essence of love? Jealousy, possessiveness, cruelty, selfishness—what else is there that defines the emotion? I don't see the appeal of it. It is a weak emotion that weakens both the lover and the object of the love. It causes pain and worry and fretfulness. Grand gestures and horrible sacrifices, and all for what? To be able to say that one 'loves'?

"I have never yet seen a benefit in that emotion, at least not to the one who claims to feel it. Perhaps the object of the love benefits. Potter was saved by his mother's love. But what did she gain out of it? She is dead. She could have saved herself and had other children.

"It seems to me to waste a great deal of time and energy, and cause a great deal of pain and angst, to chase after this nefarious thing dubbed 'love'. Ridiculous."

She offered a weak smile and shook her head. "Some people find great happiness in love, Severus. Look at the Weasleys. My parents. Most people find comfort and strength in their loved ones, but I won't try to argue you out of your opinion. I'm no expert on the subject, and am inclined to agree with you that it's probably more trouble than it's worth for most people. I do believe that love—true love in the best and noblest sense—does exist. I just think it's incredibly rare, and people do spend too much time chasing its shadow."

He raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. "So then which of those noble and weighty works _is _your favourite?"

"_Pride and Prejudice_," she said, without hesitation.

He gave a derisive laugh and smirked at her. "Ah, yes, and that work is not the least bit irrational or romantic! Come, Miss Lupin. You may as well admit belief in fairy tales and have done. It is a more interesting read than the other work, I will grant you, but I think the other is more honest to human nature. You are a romantic; I would not have pegged you so."

She smiled back and said, archly, "And you are a cynic, but I knew that at once. I think Austen's book is far more true to human nature. You forget whom you have been spending most of your time with. In your work you're with hormonal adolescents who are convinced that every emotion they feel is life threatening, and that they are the only ones who have ever felt it. In your…. leisure, such as it is, you are with a group of adults who don't exactly have a pleasant world view.

"I think perhaps you should at least concede this point to me—your life-experience leaves you a poor judge of the truth of the matter. Not that my experience is all that great, but I have socialized more with 'average' people than you have."

"I will concede no such thing," he said dryly. "I accept the title of cynic with honour, and will continue to be such until the world proves otherwise. At least in that way I face no disappointments. You should take care of the pitfalls of your romanticism."

"Oh, I do, Professor," she said, teasingly, mimicking his words back to him. "I accept the title of romantic with honour, and will continue to do so until the world proves otherwise."

They continued to converse in this style with spirit and sharp teasing, neither giving an inch, and both finding enjoyment in the debate, until the meal was complete and it was time to proceed to the theatre.

* * *

The production of the play was splendid. The acting troop was an excellent one; the scenery and scene changes handled with the smooth grace of true professionals who also had the benefit of magic. It was one of Rowena's favourite comedies by the Bard, and to see it done so well was an especially fine treat. Even Severus managed the rare snort of humour, though far be it for him to be seen to actually _laugh_ in public.

The only cloud to the event was the presence of the Malfoys, who had also attended. But as the intermission was blessedly short, and Lucius had other more important acquaintances to socialise with, they were spared any further conversation with them at that time. Rowena did notice that Narcissa frequently glanced their way.

She took care to maintain her role as doting admirer, often smiling warmly at Severus during particularly humourous passages of the play. He maintained a resolutely bored countenance, and if he met her smiles, it was to give her a look of thinly disguised derision. She was annoyed with herself to find that she felt hurt by the apparent indifference, and kept telling herself that he also needed to maintain the pretense. The problem was, it was impossible to tell whether he was feigning the indifference, or if it was genuine. This was going to be far more difficult than she had bargained for!

When it was over, and the troop had received all the accolades by repeated curtain calls that were their due for such a fine performance, he stood and offered her his arm. For all his claimed inexperience with women, he had the refined grace of a true courtier when he wished to make the effort to display it.

She smiled warmly at him again when she took his arm, and he met her eyes with an unguarded look of sincere interest, though it was gone in an instant and he was again inscrutable to her. Imperceptibly to all but herself, he tightened his arm against his side for the briefest moment, as though to squeeze her hand in reassurance.

Lucius and Narcissa approached them as they were leaving, and Severus firmly resumed his air of cold indifference.

"Severus, Rowena, did you enjoy the production? It was quite entertaining, don't you agree?" Lucius asked smoothly.

Severus scoffed. "The performers were adequate, considering the material. The basic premise of the play is flawed. Much of Shakespeare is tolerable, but I do not care for this particular work."

Lucius laughed lightly, as did Narcissa, though it was she who spoke. "I'm sure, Severus. You prefer the tragedies. You can't believe that love could cause such a transformation, right? Not only in her from shrew to obedient wife, but in him from indifferent master to adoring husband. It's quite sappy, of course, dear. But it is funny and romantic, just the thing for a lovely date. Very quaint." This last statement was said with an inquiring, piercing gaze at Rowena.

Rowena saw the questions in the cool blue eyes, and decided it was time to play the role of besotted admirer to the hilt. She smiled radiantly at Lucius and Narcissa, and then cast Severus an almost adoring glance.

"Oh, yes. It was a lovely play. It's one of my favourite comedies. It was ever so nice of Severus to invite me to come. I've had a lovely evening."

Lucius gave Severus a knowing smile and slight nod, and Narcissa laughed again with her false, polite laugh. She took Rowena's arm and led her a few steps away from the gentlemen before speaking again in low tones. "You've set your sights on the ice man, you know, dear. Do be cautious. I wish you all the best of luck. Maybe you have the key to melt him."

Rowena pretended the air of someone receiving genuine advice from a friend, and smiled again radiantly. "I know he can be aloof, but I know that hard exterior houses a caring man on the inside, Narcissa. He just needs the right woman to care about him, to help him bring that out."

She almost choked on the sappiness of her own drivel, and wanted to laugh at what Severus would think of such a declaration. Narcissa, however, was plainly delighted, as that was obviously what she wished to hear. She looked as though she was dying to burst into mocking laughter, but quickly schooled her face into a look of friendly concern.

"I hope you're right, Rowena. I would so love to see both of you happy. If you can find happiness together, well, so much the better." She then looked away as though the effort to fight off laugher was almost too much, and taking Rowena's arm walked back towards the gentlemen.

Lucius in the meantime had been speaking to Severus in carefully couched phrases. "It seems you wasted no time in your directive. I only wish Narcissa had shared the secret earlier. The girl is plainly smitten with you, friend. You should have no trouble with your task."

"So it would seem," was all Severus deigned to reply.

"I'm sure no one would hold it against you if you managed to _enjoy_ yourself in the process," Lucius added with a suggestive leer.

Severus straightened a bit at this and cast Lucius a dark look. "I am not doing this to 'enjoy myself', Lucius. I have an assignment, that is all."

Lucius raised his hands in mock defence. "Of course, Severus. As long as you obtain the desired result, no one cares how it's done. She is attractive enough, and practically throwing herself at you. Don't refuse the offer before considering it. You might even allow her to enjoy it as well if you chose. On the other hand, sometimes the fight is half the fun."

"Lucius, please do not include me in any more information as to your own proclivities. I would rather not know more than I already do."

The blond man laughed at this. His laugh was a rich, warm sound, the result of many years of careful practice and training, and belied the true cruelty and evil behind it.

"Suit yourself, my friend. But I assure you, if you do not take what is offered, there will be others waiting in line for the remainders. Many of her old admirers will be at the Fete. Stake your claim, or be prepared to have others try."

He raised a brow and looked sternly at Lucius. "I desire no claim on the girl. You know my purpose. You also know my opinions in regards to the crass methods of other of our associates. She will be left alone as long as I am on the case, or the offending parties will answer to me."

Lucius gave him a mocking smile, a slight nod, and then stepped away as the women approached. Narcissa took his arm with the easy grace of long familiarity, while Rowena blushed in embarrassment as she timidly took Severus' arm, which he offered with perfect indifference.

"Good evening, Lucius, Narcissa." Severus bowed his head slightly, with bored politeness. Without waiting for their response, he placed his hand over Rowena's and Apparated them back to Hogsmeade.


	8. Chapter 8: What is Real?

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Poor Snape trying to figure out what he is feeling, what she is feeling, and what he should do about it, if anything. Murky waters of emotion. This chapter is admittedly a little melodramatic, so be warned. Also, a huge portion of the Snape in this chapter must be credited to Annii Frazier again. Not wholly 'stolen', but definitely paraphrased in many places—though with her permission.

* * *

Chapter 8: What is Real?

* * *

He was silent and brooding on the walk back to the castle, and rebuffed every attempt she made at conversation. She quickly gave up the effort, and instead allowed herself to ruminate on the evening's events.

He walked her directly to her quarters, waited while she opened the door, and then stepped boldly inside without so much as a word or waiting for an invitation. Once the door was shut and sealed behind them, he rounded on her and stared at her intently.

"Exactly how much of your behavior tonight was a pretense?" He asked without ceremony.

She was shocked not only at the question, but at the abruptness of it and his apparent agitation.

"What? I don't understand what you mean?" she said, genuinely confused.

"I find this whole situation confusing and unsettling enough without having to guess at meanings. I can't do... 'this', whatever 'this' is, if you are not honest with me. I want to know precisely what portion of your behavior tonight was feigned," he said emphatically.

She blushed deeply and couldn't hold his gaze. Her mind whirled with thoughts of what to say and how to say it. She wouldn't lie to him, yet she feared if he knew the whole truth of her feelings for him, he would be repulsed!

Still, his insecurities and doubts had to be considered. He trusted no one. If she hoped to earn his trust, she would have to do so by being honest. In all things.

She was afraid. Silently she sat on her couch and pulled her legs up under her chin, wrapping the pretty silk skirts around them, and wrapping her arms around the whole. Without looking at him directly, she said, "None of it was an act, Severus. I might have exaggerated the outward signs for the benefit of 'dear' Narcissa. But the underlying admiration is real."

He had watched her blush, her confusion, and at last watched her as she sat. Gods! He knew that position—that self-protective ball that one takes when one fears a terrible blow is coming. She thought he would hurt her—she was afraid of him; afraid he would lash out at her for no more crime than admitting she fancied him. He temporarily brushed aside his disbelief in her words in his discomfort over her fear.

He sat next to her took her hand gently.

"Rowena, it is not my intent to harm you, either deliberately or accidentally. I don't like you being involved in this ruse. I will do my best to protect you until we can find a way out. But you will have to be honest with me if there is ever going to be anything real beyond the facade."

She laughed nervously at this and glanced sideways at him, where she rested her chin against her knees. "You don't ask for much, do you? You want me to bare my soul, be blunt and honest, consequences be damned? I don't think you understand what you are asking."

"Subtlety is for potions making and subterfuge," he said, turning to look at her directly. "It has no place here. I am a blunt man, Rowena. I don't think I have ever fully trusted anyone. For some reason I find myself wanting to trust you. I don't know if I can, if I'm capable of it. Consequences of dishonesty and deception are far greater than any resulting from the truth. What do you want from me?"

She shrugged and stared at her chess set on her table, still unwilling to meet his eyes. "Time. The opportunity to get to know you as an adult, and for you to know me. To somehow decide if the girlhood fascination I had for you was all empty fantasy or based on a real foundation.

"I don't ask for romance and poetry, Severus. I don't even ask for love. I have no idea if I'm capable of real love, in addition to your own opinions on the subject. I do know that I have feelings for you that I have never had for any other person in my life. I'd like the chance to see where those feelings might lead."

She brushed her hand across her face tiredly and continued, "I was in this way over my head before the necessary charade even started. You have absolutely no way to understand how deep my fascination with you runs. Not a day has gone by in 20 years that you haven't been in my thoughts, your name on my lips. And that was just a fanciful fascination with an elusive figure I only knew from afar!

"I feel like all those feelings were just a few seeds in my heart. Being with you these last six weeks and getting to know you like I have feels like all of those seeds have suddenly burst into vivid foliage and bloom inside of me and it's overwhelming. Every wonderful thing I felt about you has been proven true beyond my wildest expectations. I'm afraid of smothering you or chasing you away with the strength of my emotions."

She gave a small self-derisive laugh and said, "Now listen to me. I said I wouldn't ask for romance and poetry, and yet listen to me!"

He looked at her intently, though she was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, plainly trying to find some understanding in this situation.

"It is very strange for me to hear you say these things about me, Rowena. I never thought I would hear anything like this from anyone, let alone from a woman such as yourself. One whom I would consider, in all other circumstances, rational and intelligent."

It was his turn for a derisive snort but he ignored it and continued, "It's not as if I was the captain of the Quidditch team, or Head Boy. I am not the least bit physically attractive. And with everything in my past, I have always assumed that I would never hear such things from anyone.

"I am not frightened by your affections. They surprise me, and I find them more than a little disturbing. But it is not unpleasant to hear that someone has thought so well of me all of these years."

He stood and paced in silence, and she could think of nothing to say to fill it. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, he returned to sit next to her and addressed her very gravely.

"I don't know exactly what to say. I would like to have the chance to see where this might lead. I cannot promise you love. I do not know if I am capable of it, as I have said before. But I must insist you not hide things from me. I cannot do this if you are not perfectly honest with me."

She looked over at him then, at last. He was so handsome and serious! He had said that he 'knew' he was not 'physically attractive', but she had always found him beautiful! He was asking her not to hide things from him, and she actually giggled! "I'm sorry, Severus, I'm not laughing at what you said. It's just the thought--I have bared so much of my inner soul to you these past weeks that I feel emotionally naked and vulnerable just to be in the same room with you. I wonder what you possibly think I could be hiding?

"But if just what I have told you makes you feel less uncertain of my true feelings, I will bare the last of my secrets and show you the proof that I am not some prank or joke or figment of my brother's friend's contorted sense of humor."

And then impulsively, she stood up and took his hand. If he was going to reject her or be frightened away by the strength of her near-obsession for him, better now than later!

"I think it would be easier to demonstrate rather than to try and explain. Please, won't you join me for a tour of my quarters?"

He raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but as there was nothing deliberately or covertly sexual or seductive in her tone or actions, he followed her in silence.

She proceeded to present him with over 20 years of fascination collected objects.

First was the stop in her bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet revealed a collage of photos on the inside of the door taken when she was in school. He was in all of them, obviously taken surreptitiously. "I took all of these. I have several albums full of similar photos. It's really rather remarkable how oblivious you were to your surroundings when you were reading a book. All I had to do was get my dorm-mates or friends to "pose" with you in the background. They thought I was just really, really bad at focusing and aiming my camera. They didn't know I was getting exactly what I wanted in my photos."

Then, she moved to her bedroom where sat a small, framed photograph of him—an enlargement of his annual staff picture from the school year book. This was on the bedside table right next to her bed. Upon opening a drawer in her bureau, she retrieved a roll of parchment and handed it to him.

"In my third year, you helped me with a potions essay. You actually wrote on the parchment, so I saved it. A "Severus Artifact". I sat up all night recopying the entire essay on a fresh parchment so that I wouldn't have to relinquish this one to my professor. You told me it was "quite adequate", which at the time was the highlight of my school career."

She then took him back into the living room where she handed him the Slytherin Snake he had seen the day she moved to Hogwarts. It contained only his signature. "One of my friends from your house got you to sign that for me. Raeann. She put several of her own pages in it so it would look partially filled, asked for your signature on a fresh page, took her own pages out again and returned it to me. In exchange I helped her with a particularly difficult DADA Essay."

She showed him several photo albums full of the photos of himself she had told him about. She pointed to the shelves containing all the school yearbooks since he became a teacher.

"I buy a new one every year so that I can have a current photo. You could smile when you have your picture taken, you know," she said with a nervous laugh.

He raised a brow at her, but said nothing.

And last, but definitely not least, she handed him her altered copy of _The Witch and the Animagus_. By now her face was flaming, and her voice was trembling in embarrassment. "Please understand before you look at that, that I did it the summer of my third year, when I thought I would surely die from never seeing you again. I was only 13 at the time, which must plead my excuse."

The fine leather binding of the book was well cared for, though it was obviously old and much looked into. However, the hand-painted illustration on the front cover and the gold inlay decorating it were still in pristine condition. The story was identical to the muggle tale of '_Beauty and the Beast_', but she had magically altered it, putting her name in place of the witch, and his name in place of the beast.

There were dozens of other little things. He permeated her quarters as he had done her life.

At last she left him silently standing there, looking over the articles she had given him with an air of bemusement, and resumed her frightened ball on the couch. The worst was over, come what may.

Severus was shocked, _stunned _at the sheer volume of evidence. He flipped through the altered "_Witch and the Animagus_", with her own flowing handwriting on the last page, "And Severus and Rowena Snape lived happily ever after."

Somehow he had never fully believed any of them—Remus, Dumbledore, Narcissa, even Rowena herself—when they had told him that she had fancied him in school. It had seemed to him some abstract joke, some prank, and he had ignored the implications of it.

But this... well, the evidence was overwhelming! No one would take a prank this far for this long, not even James Potter or Sirius Black! He experienced a strange, powerful sensation deep within himself. What an odd thing to be cared about, this strongly, for this long, by someone. Even more unusual for it to be someone like her—lovely, intelligent, respectable... she was in every respect a more remarkable woman than he had ever aspired to attract!

At last he became aware of more than his own confused thoughts and feelings. Rowena was again on the couch, fearful and avoiding his gaze. Quietly he walked over to her, gently handed her the fairy tale book and sat down beside her. She accepted it in equal silence, and hugged it to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around it, as though it were precious to her.

He tried to smile at her, to let her know he wasn't disgusted or angry, but his own emotions were too confused. The expression was more a bemused grimace! Instead he said softly, gently teasing, "It appears I have been married all these years and didn't know it."

She looked over at him, trying to gauge his feelings, and managed a wry smile. "How could you be expected to know it when your wife has been woefully negligent in cleaning your robes and mending your socks?"

He gave a small laugh. "I see you do indeed believe in fairy tales, after all, Rowena."

She shook her head and looked away, blinking back nervous tears. "I told you I wasn't acting. I'm sorry, Severus. I know this doesn't change anything. I won't ask or demand anything from you. I've never dared hope I'd ever see you again, let alone talk with you as a friend, an equal. I just want time to figure out what my feelings are and what yours might be."

He took her hand again and squeezed it gently, "No, Rowena, you're wrong. This changes many things. I will need some time to think about this. I think your trust, your fascination, your admiration, even your friendship is misplaced. Yet I can't deny my own interest and curiosity. You intrigue me, Miss Lupin, and I have no intention of allowing this opportunity to slip away without exploring where it might lead."

He stood, and his manner became brusque and formal again. "For now, at least, I need to think. And you should sleep. I will accompany you to St. Mungos tomorrow at the usual time."

He had turned to leave, but stopped and turned back. Taking her hand once more, he looked deeply into her eyes. "Thank you for your honesty, Rowena. It helps..." He trailed off and bowed, gently kissed the back of her hand, and left without another word.

It was many hours of silent contemplation before she could rouse herself enough to change her clothes and go to bed.

* * *

Severus, likewise too occupied with thought for sleep, prowled the school. This was much less satisfying when the school was empty of students, robbing him of the opportunity to dole out detentions or take house points. However, it was dark and solitary, and suited his thoughts.

She was very scary, this Lupin woman. She intrigued him, and that in and of itself was disturbing. He had built his careful wall of indifference over his lifetime, and was not the least interested in allowing anyone inside that wall. His life was already complicated enough in his dual role without adding a potential vulnerability to it!

Still, she attracted him. That was an understatement. She drew him more strongly than even the locked and sealed cabinet of his Dark Magic books that he kept as a daily test of and testament to his strength of will. The innocent honesty tonight with which she bared the most secret details of her infatuation, was a gift that he knew not how to accept properly. What a thing—Severus Snape, the object of a beautiful woman's life-long obsession! He snorted in self-derision at the very thought.

"Humorous thoughts, Severus?"

_Damn_. Albus Dumbledore had just appeared, as though materializing from thin air, directly in front of him. Somehow, he did not feel equal to a discussion with Albus this evening. Yet he knew there would be no escape. Albus knew him better than anyone. Well, perhaps Rowena might know him nearly as well, he conceded mentally. Albus was certainly the closest person to him, the person he trusted most, if at all.

"Disturbed thoughts might be more to the point, Albus," he replied dryly.

"Ah, yes. Pretty young ladies can do that to a man I think," said Albus with a twinkle in his eye.

Severus glowered suspiciously and growled at him accusingly, "You knew how she felt about me all along! All those years ago you knew, didn't you? And you knew when you let her agree to this charade! Why didn't you tell me then? Or stop her from participating in this ruse now?"

"Yes, Severus," the Headmaster said with his usual cheerful serenity. "I have always known. It wasn't mine to tell then or now. Then, it would have changed nothing—except you might have succeeded in drawing her into the Darkness with you. I rather think she would have followed if you had asked..."

"No, she wouldn't. I offered, I can't remember what year, but I remember offering her The Book. She refused," Severus cut in quickly.

Albus appeared surprised at this, "Really? Then she is stronger even than I gave her credit for. I would not have wanted to face that temptation early in my youth. I don't know many who would resist the lure when directly before them."

He smiled again, broader now, with blue-eyes definitely aglitter in humor at his friend's obvious discomfort. "That being the case, you know why I allowed her to agree to help us in this 'charade' as you call it. Miss Rowena Lupin has a great deal of strength and determination. I don't know that either of us could have stopped her once she had decided to participate. I believe, if I had to name a flaw, I would call her a mite stubborn."

Severus made another noise of derision, "That much is certain."

"Come, my friend. Sleep is miles from you tonight, and I admit to being a bit bored myself. I do miss the students. Come join me for our game of chess. I believe the length of this one will beat our previous record, and you are no nearer to defeating me I'm afraid."

Severus nodded in resignation and followed silently. He never contradicted Albus when he named him "friend". Slytherin "Rule of A's" just didn't seem to apply to Albus Dumbledore. If there was one person he could truly name as "friend", then it was indeed the Headmaster. Though perhaps he would have to adjust to adding a second person to that list. He wasn't quite prepared for that enormous of a change as of yet.

Upon sitting and facing the board, and a command from Albus for the pieces to resume their positions of the summer-long game, Severus looked inquiringly up at the older man.

"Do you have any idea why she trusts me so implicitly? Or why she brushes off my Death Eater past as though it were a botched Transfiguration essay, not to be considered anymore?"

"Forgiveness, Severus. It's a marvelous thing. No crime, no matter how heinous, is beyond forgiveness where there is true repentance. She believes you to be wholly redeemed, as do I. It is simple as that; and as complex. You may note that her belief in forgiveness and redemption is not nearly so freely given as mine."

He snorted at that. "I beg to disagree, Albus. I at least made a full confession to you, and you have had my actions since as proof. She forgives me on her own beliefs, Ministry rumors and your trust, in spite of all my efforts to convince her otherwise, without proof of any kind. It's very irrational, but can't be considered reluctantly given."

Both men were staring at the chessboard. Albus was white, Severus black. There were far more white pieces on the board than black ones, yet it was by no means easy to tell which side was "winning".

"You are correct, Severus, in that she forgives you and absolves you completely, without question, but only you. I believe anyone deserves a second chance to rectify past mistakes, no matter how grievous. You notice Rowena has no forgiveness for her brother. I believe that rift causes both of them great pain, but she hasn't learned to forgive him."

Severus looked up and met Albus's serious gaze. "Her grudge against him is because of me, is it not? I've done far worse things than Lupin ever did; yet she forgives me and not him? I don't understand this at all."

At last he leaned forward and moved a knight, the first move of their current session. Albus sighed and gazed at the board.

"I was merely making an observation, Severus. You would have to ask her to explain it. Though I doubt she could. Sometimes these things defy rational explanations. It might help her towards healing her relationship with her brother to have someone to talk about it with."

Severus scowled at him, "You don't seriously expect ME to help mend their rift, do you? I happen to think she's better off without him. You may believe him to be a 'tame' werewolf. I'm not happy unless I see him drink the damn potion with my own eyes."

"I don't expect you to do anything, Severus. I trust Remus every bit as fully as I trust you. Only you can decide if her pain over her separation from her brother is something that you wish to help ease. I suspect you could do it better than anyone else. But that is something that is between you and Miss Lupin."

Severus scoffed, "Even if I had the power to do that, I don't think I would. I don't like being involved in other people's emotional turmoil. There is too much room for error."

"Not everything in life can be carefully weighed and measured before attempting, Severus. Emotions are much more volatile than any ingredient you might put in your potion cauldron. They can't be quantified, contained, or truly controlled. But life is far more interesting with that variety than without it. Not all risks have to be life threatening to be meaningful.

They fell into silence as they played a few rounds before retiring, neither gaining the upper hand in the game. Severus did find some comfort in Albus's words and guidance; and more food for thought. What an odd thing, to be trying to navigate the murky waters of a relationship for the first time at the age of nearly 37!


	9. Chapter 9: Dwelling in Darkness

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

You knew it couldn't be that easy. Poor Snape just doesn't know how to deal with all these conflicting emotions and his past. We had to have a good row. It won't be the last. I love a snarky Snape. He goes a bit beyond snarky to downright nasty here, but he has reasons, poor guy. He spills his guts to Rowena about his past, why he went Death Eater.

* * *

Chapter 9: Dwelling in Darkness

* * *

Rowena strode briskly across the front lawns, adjusting the toys, books and blankets in her large satchel as she went. She wasn't late, yet… but only just. 

Severus was already there, waiting by the Thestral—_ONE_ Thestral, again. Her heart began to pound nervously. Hagrid was standing nearby looking rather sheepish, and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Severus, listen, why can't we just walk to Hogsmeade and then apparate to the hospital? It would really be faster in the long run."

"No," he said firmly, "We ride. You insist on carrying half of Diagon Alley's toyshop with you, and you could be easily attacked along the way. Thestrals are safer."

"We walked last night—and in the dark. I can't imagine we wouldn't be equally safe now. Really, I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I can just Reduce the bag until we get there…."

"_NO_" he said commandingly, "I said we ride. Pettigrew could be about today. Now, do you mount on your own, or do I assist you?"

Rowena looked about somewhat wildly, as though looking for an escape. Her eyes lighted upon Hagrid and she looked at him imploringly.

"Hagrid, can't we get another Thestral, then? It really seems a cruelty to make one carry us both," Rowena asked, feeling slightly panicked. She felt incredibly emotionally vulnerable after their discussion last night. The thought of riding so closely to him all the way to London gave her shivers of equal measures fear and anticipation.

Hagrid continued not to look at her, and instead gave Severus a look that might have been accusing before he responded, "He's strong enough fer both of you without a problem, Professor Lupin. There won't be no more comin' today. I'll see what I can do next week, though."

Severus smirked at him and nodded, "I'm sure you will, Hagrid. Rowena? Are we going or not?"

With a sigh and no small amount of trepidation, she mounted the beast. Severus swung gracefully up behind her and reached forward around her to hold onto the mane. It seemed to Rowena that he was holding his arms closer to her than he had last time, and perhaps a little more tightly than necessary.

"St. Mungos, London," he said, and they were off.

Once again she spent the nearly hour-long flight in painful awareness of his body against hers. She was certain that he was sitting closer to her than he had done last time, though she would not have believed such a thing possible. She could feel the full length of his long, thin legs pressed against hers, and her back was firmly in contact with his chest. She even imagined that she could feel the beating of his heart against her, though that was likely only the wild pounding of her own. Occasionally it felt as though he was stroking his jaw against her hair, but surely that was just fanciful imaginings on her part!

It was not an unpleasant feeling to be so close against him—not in the least. His body was like iron—hard and strong, but also warm, so that she could not remember ever feeling so safe and protected. She had even forgotten to be aware of the height, so consuming was her awareness of him. It was cold to travel at such altitudes, but his warmth around her kept her from feeling the chill. She actually felt a disturbing heat that she could not describe.

At some point toward the end of the flight, she stopped resisting her body's urges and relaxed against him, leaning her head back against his shoulder. This time there was no mistaking his actions as he tightened his arms about her further and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. It was almost cozy!

At last they landed and he dismounted first, holding his hand out to her to help her down. When she met his eyes, they were dark and stormy with some unknown emotion. She didn't think he seemed angry, though. In fact, he offered her an almost triumphant expression as he asked, dryly, "Did you enjoy the flight, Professor Lupin?"

Suddenly she knew! She looked at him in shock and said accusingly, "You made sure there was only one Thestral! And you made poor Hagrid lie about it!"

He gave her a rather feral grin that none the less brightened his face, "Oh, yes, I did manage to send the others off just before you arrived. But no, I did not "make" Hagrid lie. He would not agree to it. I only told him he was not to tell you what I had done. If you had asked him directly, I'm sure he would have told you the truth.

"One more example, I'm afraid, of how you must never trust a Slytherin. We will go to any lengths to get what we want. You almost spoiled it by insisting on walking. I suppose now that my secret is out, I will have to submit to walking in the future."

She blushed brilliantly, but still met his gaze defiantly as she took his arm, "Riding suits me fine, thank you."

He raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but seeing that she was sincere, he gave a slight, triumphant smile and nodded, leading her into the building.

* * *

The orphan's ward was boisterous and noisy. It was a nice day, and the kids were longing to be outside. There were only two small babies today, but there were three more toddlers and young children. Katrina was still there, and remained quietly apart from the other children.

Several of the children ran to Rowena, throwing themselves at her and leaping into her arms for hugs and kisses and all manner of displays of childish affection. Severus stood aside and observed in silence. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he was taken by surprise when a tiny hand slipped into his. He looked down to see Katrina's haunting blue eyes staring up at him. Instinctively he squatted down to her level. To his nearly overwhelming astonishment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek!

He was completely without the power of speech. His was a face to make babies cry and small children run screaming in fear! This child's apparent affection for him after only a few visits was almost as disturbing to him as Rowena's. She even radiated the same blind trust in him, as though somehow he had the magic to make all the world right for her.

He would have laughed at the idea, had he not been so overwhelmed. Severus Snape, beloved by damsels in distress. _HA_!

Still, he did not reject the child's attentions. Forcibly bringing memories of his mother to mind, he gently picked up the tiny child and carried her to a corner rocking chair, where he sat holding her on his lap. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him, silently.

After a time, he asked her if she would like him to read to her. She quickly scrambled off his lap and retrieved a book, presenting it to him and resuming her place snuggled on his lap. The Universe seemed to be taking perverse enjoyment in tormenting him lately—the book she handed him was "The Witch and the Animagus". Not so fine or well cared for a copy as the one Rowena had altered and showed him yesterday, but the same story none the less.

Katrina's English had improved dramatically over the last few days already, helped along occasionally by gentle refreshment of the translation charm Rowena had used originally. Still, she asked him to read the book in German, and he did not refuse.

Rowena looked up at the sound of his melodious baritone voice. She didn't understand the words, but the sound was nearly hypnotic. The picturesque of the dark man and fair child even more so. Her eyes blurred for a moment and her throat constricted with the wave of emotion that passed over her.

She saw, where others could not hope to understand, the simple, ironic beauty in those two hurting souls finding comfort with each other. One a former Death Eater, one a victim of Death Eaters. Grown man and little girl. Opposites in nearly every way, yet two sides of the same coin. Katrina had recognized him at once as a kindred spirit.

The nurse came in and had a few moments quiet conversation with Rowena while the children played with their new toys and gifts she had brought. Smiling, Rowena then went over to Severus, just as he was finishing the story.

"The children would like to play outside, but the nurse can't take them alone, there are just too many of them. Would you like to help me maintain controlled chaos in the courtyard so they can get some fresh air?"

He snorted at this, but stood at once. Katrina clung to him so that he was carrying her easily, wrapped around his side on his hip as though he always carried three-year-old toddlers as a matter of course.

"Very well. It can't possibly be any worse than keeping adolescents and pre-adolescents away from the lure of the forbidden forest."

Rowena beamed at him, but the nurse was looking at him appraisingly, a worried frown on her face.

Once outside, Katrina tore herself away from him long enough to play with balls and jump ropes in the sunshine. She even was drawn to the Thestral and went over to it. Most of the children, to Rowena's sorrow, seemed to be able to see the creature, but only Katrina was bold enough to pat it.

Rowena wandered among the children playing with them, twirling the jump rope, throwing a ball, or playing chase as she was requested. Severus merely sat on a centrally located bench and observed, attempting to maintain his usual air of indifference. He did rouse himself enough to perform a minor curing spell on a scraped knee when a boisterous game of tag ended in a spectacular bodily crash and minor injuries.

The nurse also observed, and during a time when Rowena was otherwise occupied and Severus was alone, she approached him and spoke with him in low tones for a few minutes. He looked at her piercingly, and when the tete-a-tete was over, his usual impassive scowl had a worried edge.

Eventually they took the children inside. Severus sat in his usual corner, kept company by Katrina who often sat on his lap or otherwise played near him. Rowena helped the nurse with distributing the evening meal, feeding and changing babies, bathing the children before bed, and tucking them all in at bedtime.

Severus watched her enjoyment of the children and particularly the babies with discomfort. She seemed to know just how to swaddle them and hold them to ease their crying. Often, she unconsciously rubbed her nose through the soft hair of whatever infant she was holding as she rocked and hummed them to sleep. He didn't know why, but this annoyed him greatly.

At last all the children were sleeping, even Katrina, who had fallen asleep on his lap. He tucked her gently into her bed; her golden curls still damp from the bath Rowena had given her, and guided Rowena from the room.

In the courtyard he helped her onto the Thestral and then mounted behind her as before. He felt a primitive sense of _something_ very male when he felt her tremble at his touch and relax against him. He grabbed the mane of the Thestral, encircling her possessively. How had he come to think of her in such terms in so short of a time?

Her body pressed against his was warm and inviting, the fragrance of her silky hair tantalized his senses throughout the flight. He was shocked at the thoughts that passed through his mind as he held her. The wind occasionally lifted her hair from her neck, and he longed to kiss the inviting expanse of flesh there. Her hips pressed so tightly against his lap caused his body to respond in desire, and it required nearly all of his hard-earned self-control not to allow his hands to caress and touch her more intimately than he already was.

* * *

At Hogwarts he forced himself back to rationality and savagely suppressed the unwelcome physical response of his body to hers. He helped her off the Thestral and walked her to the castle, wordlessly. She didn't even try for conversation this time, willing to wait until they reached her quarters. He escorted her there and followed her inside as he had done yesterday, sealing the door behind him. 

Without preamble he turned to her, "The nurse told me that there have been inquiries after Katrina, people wanting to adopt her. They are Death Eaters, Rowena. The nurse has been holding them off by telling them she is not well enough to leave the hospital, but she won't be able to do so for long. We need to find someplace she can be safe."

Rowena paled and went to the kitchenette to prepare tea as she considered. "Let me talk to Molly Weasley. She mentioned the last time she came with me to the hospital that she was lonely during the school year, now that all her own kids are in school. The Weasley's won't care that she's a muggle-born. If they don't want to adopt Katrina, I'm sure they would at least foster her until suitable parents can be found.

"I never had much 'clout' at the Ministry, but I do have a friend in Social that I can talk to. She might be able to help stall any applications for a while."

He sat and accepted the teacup she held out to him when she brought it, but did not meet her eyes. She was silent, watching him. Something was obviously on his mind, more than the welfare of the child. He would tell her when he was ready, but the suspense was nerve-wracking. HER body was not so easily willed into indifference after the flight!

Contemplatively, he sipped at his tea for several long moments. At last he spoke, though he looked not at her, but at the floor.

"Why have you no children? You obviously like them. You would be a good mother."

She frowned at him in surprise. "I thought that was obvious? I like children well enough, of course. But I think any child deserves two stable parents whenever possible and I haven't been inclined to marry, as we have discussed before. I'm content with my work at the hospital and have no burning desire for children of my own. If it happens, fine, if not, fine."

"I hate children," he said in a dull voice.

"No you don't," she contradicted gently.

"What do you know of the matter?" His voice was louder and suddenly held an edge of anger as his glittering black eyes flew to her face.

"I've watched you with Katrina on three separate occasions now. You might hate what children represent, the idea of having children of your own. But you don't hate actual children."

"Katrina is different," he snarled, "It is my fault she is in her current circumstance."

"I think it's best if I don't argue that particular point with you. You already know my opinion in the matter. Why do you think you hate children?" And then, with the clarity of bits and pieces of a puzzle suddenly falling into place, she asked, "Who was it that beat you as a child?"

He glared at her then, anger rising instantly to the surface so that she thought she could feel it from where she sat opposite him.

"What do you know of that?" he hissed.

"When I treated you, when you came back, I ran the diagnostics…. You have so many old bone scars that some of your bones are held together by nothing BUT scars. Most of them are far too old to have been acquired from your years as Death Eater. When I was in school, apprenticing with my dad, he told me of a Devin Snape that killed his wife, only he got off saying she fell down the stairs. It was part of my dad's campaign to convince me not to be an Auror. Was that… was he…"

"My father. Yes." He stood and walked to the window, his body still tense with rage, his fists clenched.

"Last of the line of Snape until I was born. His father arranged a good marriage for Devin prior to his death. 'Grandpa' Snape, you see, had spent all the original Snape fortune bribing Ministry officials to keep out of Azkaban.

"My mother was from France, from a fine, pure-blood family. She was the last unmarried child of a wealthy widow. Exceedingly wealthy, which was just what the House of Snape needed. She came, sight unseen, and married my father at once. That is the common way for pureblood families to maintain their lineage, as you know. Her mother came with her, which is probably why I exist."

It was surprising to him that he felt so willing to talk about this with her. Never before had he shared his history with anyone. Even Lucius, who sheltered him during the school holidays, did not know the whole story. He was angry, yes; but he wanted her to know the whole truth of this. Perhaps that would allow her to see what sort of person he was in time to flee before she was involved too deeply!

"Grandmum controlled the money, so he had to be on his best behavior while she was around. I don't remember her, she died when I was very small, of what my mother assured me was natural causes, though I still have my doubts. At any rate, she was around long enough for my mother to have one successful pregnancy.

"Almost all successive pregnancies ended in miscarriage or stillbirth from the severity of his beatings. I had a sister who lived for a few hours, but she was grossly premature and had a cracked skull at birth. Her injuries were too extensive for either mother or I to heal, and he wouldn't let her be taken to St. Mungos."

The memory of the tiny, broken baby filled his mind for a moment, and he had to pause. Was it the recollection of holding that baby in his arms when he was merely a young child himself that had disturbed him tonight when he saw Rowena holding babies at the hospital?

He shoved the unpleasant memories aside, cleared his throat to cover any change in his voice from the long-buried emotion, and continued impassively.

"My father was gone for months at a time on 'business'. What that business was I have no idea. He would return and stay at the home only a week or two, but it was enough. My mother tried to shield me as much as possible, but when she was beaten into near unconsciousness, he would turn to me.

"She had been a trained Healer in France, not unlike your father, I suppose. My father would not allow her to work after the marriage, but her training was useful. I learned quickly to perform many healing charms, and create healing potions. It was with her, at her hand, that I developed my early interest and skill in that subject. When my father's rage was spent, he would disappear, and whichever of us was the most capable would heal the other into functioning, and then visa versa.

"His verbal abuse was of a kind with the physical. The only remotely civil thing he ever said to me, after beating me to near death, was 'Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' That was his goal, you see to make me 'strong'.

"It was in his library that I first found the Dark Magic books. In fact, the actual book I tried to give to you years ago on the train was one I stole from him when I was very young.

"I hated him; but sometimes I hated my mother almost as much. I might have loved her, if I was ever capable of the sensation, but I hated her as well. I hated her weakness. Why didn't she get us out of there? Why didn't she curse him or hex him or kill him so he couldn't hurt us anymore? She always said she loved me, but her love seemed weak.

"I realize now that she couldn't have left. There was nowhere she could have gone that he wouldn't have found us, and killed us. Nor could she kill him without immediate retaliation. I found documentation of that with the help of my new allies after I came to school. He had marked me, so that if he was ever killed, his allies would be able to find me anywhere and kill me at once. She knew that. There was nothing she could do to escape him that would not put my life at risk, and so she stayed.

"When I received my Hogwarts letter, his control changed. As soon as I came here, I would be under the protection of Albus, like all students even now. Once she knew I was safe, she would be able to leave him. If she left him, she would have the legal power to take her money with her, as it had remained in her legal control, even though he allowed her no actual control of it while she lived with him."

He snorted humorlessly at the recollection. How close she had come to freedom at last! Yet she should have known he would never allow her to escape!

"He couldn't afford to lose the money, of course. So on the night before I was to leave for school, he brought me to his library, and summoned my mother as well, and beat her to death. He paralyzed me so that I could do nothing but watch, and kept me there until he was sure she was dead. He then told me I was not ever welcome back once I got on the train.

"You may well wonder why he didn't kill me… but I was his one and only heir, of course. The whole point of the marriage, aside from the money, was to carry on the family name."

He turned from the window and looked at Rowena where she sat listening in rapt horror. She did not speak, though her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Somehow, she felt he needed to say all this, and she would not interrupt until he had done. He had a frightful, evil smile on his face when he continued.

"I did go back, though. Right after I finished school, and after I was initiated into the Death Eaters. I, and a select few of my new "Brothers"—Wilkes, Rosier, Lestrange, even Lucius Malfoy—we had been "Allies" in school, but now we were "Brothers". They came with me when I went back. They watched while I killed my father. Slowly. It took days for him to die. I made certain that he was never allowed the bliss of unconsciousness or insanity to ease his suffering.

"When he was finally dead, I collected the few things I wished to save from the house and placed them in an old barn and took a few things away with me. The rest of the house we burned and leveled to the ground with his body inside it. My Death Eater companions did not participate or interfere in my murder of my father—that was between him and myself alone. But they did help me in the destruction of the house. Nothing is left but rubble."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand. The aura of consuming blackness was heavy upon him and in the room, but Rowena did not flinch away as he aimed the wand almost directly at her. With a wave, he conjured an image, much like a muggle hologram, but life-sized.

"My Father," he spat, savagely.

The image was of a tall, slender man in the early stages of "middle age spread". His pale skin was sallow and lined, he had a paunchy stomach, and gray streaks at the temples of his pitch-black hair, which he wore very short. Aside from these minor changes, the image could have easily been Severus Snape. The eyes, the sharp, aristocratic nose, even the bitter scowl were the same. Severus was the very image and likeness of his father.

"He tried to make me like him, you see, as his father before him and for generations of Snapes preceding them. You see his success. Snapes hate children. Children are not safe within miles of us.

"I hate children."

Severus glared at the image as though expecting it to come to life at any moment. Palpable waves of rage and hate rolled through the room like a flood. His eyes shone with a fiery light that was more than a little alarming. He was plainly not aware of anything else in the room but the ghostly image.

Rowena, however, had had enough. As she had listened she had experienced compassion, horror and rage for what he had suffered, but now she was plainly exasperated. She stood and withdrew her own wand. She banished the hated image and immediately stepped forward so that she was standing where it had been, taking the full brunt of his loathing-filled gaze onto herself unflinchingly.

"Severus, you are not your father!" she exclaimed sternly. "I am so sorry you suffered so much at his hands, and I'm glad that you exacted such a fitting revenge. But otherwise, I must say that that is the most self-pitying tripe I've ever heard in my life!

"You're using your father and your justifiable hatred of him, as an excuse. If you pretend to hate the whole world, you can hide in your comfortable shell of bitter loneliness and consume yourself in guilt and remorse."

He focused his eyes on her, rather than where the image had been moments before. He stiffened, and his face took on a dangerous aspect of wrath. Still, she continued.

"Do you mean to frighten me by the story of how you killed him? Or impress me with how "evil" you were to do it? It sounds to me like he deserved what he got and good riddance. Am I supposed to be shocked at what I now realize was the impetus that drove you to the Death Eaters? Why shouldn't you have allied yourself with people who would help you get your just vengeance?

"Bloody hell, Severus, you are 37 years old—how long are you going to let his ghost control your life? Okay, you look like your father—that does not mean that you ARE your father! You aren't evil and cruel. You aren't lost to Darkness. YOU found your way OUT!

"Look at me, I look like Remus. Does that mean that I'm a spineless coward more concerned with people's opinions of me than I am with doing what's right? Of course not. I am not Remus."

His anger had reached the point of the eye of the storm. A horrible calmness had settled over him, but it was merely the calm in the center of the blinding rage, and he desired nothing more than to lash out and hurt. To prove her wrong.

"Ah, yes. Remus Lupin. And now who is hiding there, Miss Lupin? You pretend to have forgiveness and understanding to me, yet not to him? I, who have committed crimes more heinous than you can ever possibly comprehend, have somehow earned redemption in your eyes?

"I think, perhaps, Miss Lupin, that you have willfully deceived yourself. It is far easier to hold onto anger for some minor deed than to examine your own pitiful existence, is it not? By clinging to hurt from your brother's broken trust and a girlhood gossamer fantasy of a man, you are prevented from having to form any relationships with real men who might make you examine your own failings.

"How very safe and cowardly to shield your heart by filling it with pipe dreams and chimeras that no man can possibly live up to! That way you never have to face the broken trust that was your brother!

"I think I would rather not be the shield behind which you hide from your own demons, Miss Lupin. I am quite aware of and comfortable with my own. I would rather not take on another's. If I hide behind the ghost of my father, as you say, it is to ensure that he never again walks the earth in any incarnation, or through me again causes horror and suffering. I hide to prevent hurting others. You hide to prevent hurting yourself.

"Find yourself another object for your pretend emotions and infatuations. I want none of it…"

Her own rage at last got the better of her, and she swung at him as though to slap his face. "Get out. Get out now. Don't you ever, _ever_ presume to tell me what I feel! You wouldn't know true emotion if a dragon came and burned it into your heart!"

He grabbed her wrist with lightening reflexes that prevented the actual blow, and pulled her close to him so that he was staring down into her eyes with a rage bordering on madness.

"I do not have a heart, Lupin. You would do well to remember that. You are playing with the very fires of hell, and there is no cure for their burn. You think I have found my way out of Darkness—I have not, I have only learned to live within it. I will not warn you again."

He then thrust her away from him so harshly that she nearly fell over backwards, and with robes billowing around him, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10: Uneasy Understanding

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Short chapter. We had to have a reconciliation, but it is an uneasy one. Neither Severus nor Rowena feel they were in the wrong in their row, and indeed from their own perspective they were not. Yet their attraction draws them to each other.

* * *

Chapter 10: Uneasy Understanding

* * *

It was a full week before she could force herself to face him again. He was just as judiciously avoiding her. She went to St. Mungos on her usual days with Molly Weasley, and learned from Katrina that Severus had visited her—and her alone—Monday, Tuesday, and Friday.

She had given hours of thought to their argument, and could not find that she was wrong in what she had said to him, though she wished she had not said it at just that moment or in that way. He had shared with her some of the deepest pain of his life, and she had accused him of wallowing in self-pity. Well, perhaps he was, but it wasn't her place to point it out!

Additionally, she couldn't argue with what he had laid at her door in regards to Remus. She wasn't in the least ready to offer her brother the forgiveness that she so freely gave to Severus. Perhaps it was because none of Severus's actions had hurt her directly, where Remus's had. Was she truly that selfish?

His remarks about her feelings towards him... well, there he was way off the mark. He couldn't possibly understand the hold he had on her heart. None of it was imaginary, but there was no way to prove that to him except the test of time.

Deciding at last that nothing would be resolved by avoidance, she went to his dungeon, knowing that he was hiding in his lab, behind his research, just as she had done. Boldly, and with a stubborn set to her chin, she knocked on his door.

"Go away, Lupin."

She smiled that he knew who it was without asking. She withdrew her wand, and in a few moments time had negated his door wards and stepped inside.

"I want to talk to you," she said firmly.

"I think we have both said quite enough," he sneered.

"I don't. It was wrong of me to behave so unkindly when you told me of your parents. It's not my place to tell you what to think or how to feel. I care about you, which makes your constant self-loathing extremely tiresome. I don't think you deserve it. But it's not my place to give you a dressing-down like that."

He snorted, and looked at her with the cool impassivity of total disinterest, "An apology, Lupin? Unnecessary and unwelcome. If you have had your say, get out."

"I'm not finished. There is truth in what you said about my brother, though there is a difference in the two cases. Remus's offenses to me were of a deeply personal nature, where as yours were general, abstract, crimes against strangers. It shouldn't matter logically, in how I feel about the two situations, but it does."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, is that it?" He sneered, sarcastically.

"Something like that I suppose. But you did give me something to think about as far as he's concerned."

She hated his look of perfect unconcern. He had obviously decided to close her out completely, and she didn't know how to reach him. Still, she wasn't yet done with what she had come to say.

"There is one more thing. I will thank you not to make assumptions in regards to my feelings for you. I assure you that I'm neither so pathetic nor desperate as to be willing to throw myself at your feet. Nor am I so naïve as to imagine my feelings to be something they are not. I haven't built you into some imaginary Hero. I know you, Severus. I know the core of you, maybe as well as you know yourself. I care about YOU, just as you are, no illusions. I don't know how to make you accept that, but it's the truth.

"NOW I have said all I came to say."

He continued to stare at her coolly, impassively, and in perfect silence. She met his eyes and allowed him to see some small portion of the warm fondness she felt for him, but said no more. She had gone as far as she was willing to go. After a long moment, she turned to leave.

"Lupin...."

She turned to look at him, her hand on the door latch.

"I will accompany you to St. Mungos on Wednesday," he said, his voice impassive, but at least without the bitter sarcasm.

She gave him a small smile and nodded, and then left.

* * *

Wednesday's visit at the hospital, including the flight, was much as the previous ones had been though there were two Thestrals. Katrina again attached herself to Severus's neck, and he accepted it with the same somewhat uncomfortable grace. There was definitely a rapport between those two, though, and he was more relaxed and gentle with the child than she had ever seen him. Indeed, none of his students would have recognized the patient man endlessly reading the same stories to the small child on his lap for their bitter, sarcastic Potions Master.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, he again walked her to her quarters and followed her inside. She felt awkward and uncertain in light of the row that had occurred the last time he had come, but she was glad at least that his anger had abated enough that he was willing to come again.

She said nothing, but provided them with tea, waiting for him to speak. He seemed equally disinclined for conversation, so that she was left wondering why he came inside at all. He sat in a chair, staring at her chessboard, silent and brooding.

"Are you still planning to attend the Malfoy's Fete with me?" He asked at last, with an air of supreme indifference. She had learned enough of him by now to know that his appearance of unconcern increased in direct proportion to how important the issue at hand was to him.

"Yes, I thought it was rather expected, in light of... everything..."

He shrugged. "I could make your excuses. We had a row, you decided I wasn't worth your interest. It would be a safe way to get you out of this quickly."

She sighed and sat on the sofa where she could be closer to him than the opposite chair. "Severus, I thought we had already discussed this? You have very little understanding of a woman's affections if you think one row, no matter how blazing, is going to dampen them."

He gave a dry laugh and glanced at her briefly, uncertainly, "I have very little understanding of women in general, Rowena. You in particular. You are annoying, disturbing, frightening, intriguing, irritating, fascinating, aggravating and a million other things at once. Understandable is NOT one of them."

She smiled at him warmly, suddenly more at ease, and said playfully, "Then it's best not to try. You'll find yourself in very good company. Most men complain they can't understand women, so at least you aren't alone."

He made a humorless sound of agreement, but said no more. He did relax into his chair and seemed less uncomfortable.

She tried to break the silence by lightening the conversation, "Now that that is settled, the biggest obstacle I see is that I have no idea what to wear? Seeing how it is Narcissa involved, I suppose it must be something extravagant?"

He rolled his eyes in disgust and nodded. "Indeed. The majority of women there will be dressed up, made up, and bedecked in jewels so that they look like nothing so much as very expensive whores. Please do not attempt to match them! Do not wear black, or Slytherin Green. Otherwise anything you choose I am sure will be sufficient. No one there will think you are _one of them_, and I prefer to have that distinction maintained, for your sake. The sleeve length recommendation remains the same."

"What will you wear?"

He looked at her as though shocked, both black brows raised incredulously and said flatly, "Black".

She grinned at him and raised a brow archly, "Oh come now, Professor! Surely such a special occasion should warrant a slight diversion from your normal attire?"

"No. It does not. Another thing you should know. I do not dance. YOU, however, will be expected to do so. They do nothing but waltz, ENDLESSLY, and will have a live orchestra. Do not allow anyone to get you to agree to be their partner for the midnight dance."

She sighed and frowned at him. "Oh joy, better and better. You get to hang out by the punch bowl while I have to kill my feet and allow various and sundry evil gits paw all over me in turn, is that it?"

"I think that is an adequate summation, yes. I will get the 'joy' of being accosted by every Dark Lord supporting Father of as of yet unmarried daughters, while they are paraded in front of me like chattel. If I were to dance with YOU, I would be immediately obligated to do so with them as well. I have avoided them for over 20 years, I am not about to oblige them now."

Rowena giggled and he glowered at her. "I'm sorry, but really, you could lighten up a bit. The poor girls! What could it possibly hurt you to dance with them?"

"I do not wish it. I do not allow myself to be manipulated into things I do not want to do, Rowena. Not by anyone."

"That's not true," she contradicted with a challenge in her voice. "Between Dumbledore and You-know-who, you were right stuck in the middle and forced into this charade with me."

He gave her his dangerous, feral grin, and said smoothly, "Ah, but you will recall that all my objections were in regards to _your_ personal safety. If I had not wanted to participate, neither of those two would have been able to force me into it, as they both know. Which makes your situation all the more precarious."

She felt herself blush at his implications, and then the blush deepened at the amusement in his eyes as he noted it. Her voice sounded a bit odd and breathy as she asked, "Why does that make things more precarious?"

He leaned forward, and his voice dropped lower, the silky baritone washing over her like a caress. "Because the Dark Lord will know you interest me at least enough to get me to agree to attentions which I have steadfastly avoided giving to any other female in the entirety of my life." His eyes bored into her challengingly as he continued, "He will not believe my complete indifference, any more than you say Narcissa would believe a rift from your side. Which instantly moves you to the ranks of a potential tool to use against me, should he decide it is necessary."

The blush left her face as quickly as it had come as she paled instead at the thought that he might be in danger. She waved her wand and instantly had several heavy rolls of parchment in her hands.

"I've been working on this during the week. I found being rather angry made me more productive."

He snorted, "Indeed. As did I."

She ignored his sarcasm and laid out the rolls for him to look at.

"Albus already has these, they've been sent to Azkaban and are probably in use now as we speak. I've altered the modulation of all the antiapparation shields and antimagic shields to strengthen them. But moreover, I've given them the means to change them randomly each day. You can take these to ... Him... and He will have the actual shield plans, no subterfuge. They are so random that it will be a long time before He will be able to find a means to break through them. **_I_** couldn't even break them now that they are in effect, and I modified the spells. Just tell Him you copied these from my lab or something when I wasn't around."

He read through them carefully, and looked at her closely when he had done. He nodded and tucked them away in his robes. "Impressive. And helpful. Thank you."

He finished his tea and stood. "The Fete is Friday. We will be taking a carriage. I will pick you up here at four. The Fete includes a meal. I will be giving you a multipurpose poison antidote of my own creation when I pick you up. It shouldn't be necessary, but with these people, you never know."

She stood to walk him to the door, but he was already gone.


	11. Chapter 11: The Malfoy's Summer Fete

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

The first kiss!! Enjoy. Please review, even if you don't like it.

* * *

Chapter 11: The Malfoy's Summer Fete

* * *

Molly Weasley helped her shop for her dress and accessories. In the end she felt more than a little like Cinderella at the ball! Her dress was a spaghetti-strapped ivory confection in shimmering silk. At first she had balked at the color—her own rather drab coloring had always led her to choose more bold and vivid colors. She always found white to make her look more monotone even than usual. But the ivory, with its iridescent reflection of the lights, looked ephemeral, and Molly had insisted it was 'THE ONE' at once.

The bodice was lightly beaded, but not too extravagant or flashy, fitting snug to her bust and torso like a second skin, the thin shoulder straps more for show than for function. It dipped very low in the back, almost to her waist, and scooped gently in the front, but neither was especially immodest. It clung tightly to her body until it gathered low at her hips and flared into the skirt. The skirt was long and full, but completely unadorned. It was simply a drape of elegant ivory silk that shimmered a thousand hues with each movement she made.

For her hair, she had found mother of pearl combs that matched the iridescence of the dress. The skimpy nature of the upper portion of the dress left her feeling exposed. She wouldn't agree to wear her hair completely up and off her neck, in spite of all Molly's insistence that it was more mature and elegant. Instead, she pulled it back off of her face and away from her ears with the combs, and curled the rest into the loose, flowing ringlets that suited her so well. Her hair easily covered the bareness of her back, though she found it an interesting, sensual feeling to have it brushing continually against her bare skin.

She still wore no jewelry. She had none that would be appropriate, and wasn't willing to splurge on such an expensive item for the sake of the Malfoys and their associates! She wore a tad more makeup than usual, even going so far as to use a hint of eye shadow, though still very tasteful and subdued. She looked very critically at herself in the mirror, and though she saw many things she wished she could change about her overall appearance, overall she was happy with the effect.

At three forty-five, Severus knocked on her door.

"Come in," she said nervously, wishing at the last moment that she had bought a shawl to hide beneath!

He entered and stopped short, staring at her expressionlessly. Wordlessly, he made a turning motion in the air with his finger to indicate she should turn around, which she did, in equal silence. She found herself blushing brilliantly at his intense scrutiny.

"Do glass slippers complete the ensemble?" he asked, dryly. Plainly her feeling of being captured in a fairytale was not lost on him!

She grinned playfully and pulled up the skirt enough to reveal a soft, low-heeled shoe, almost a slipper, in the same shade of ivory silk. "If you are going to make me dance all night, my feet need to be comfortable, don't you think?"

"Indeed. You are missing something, however."

She laughed nervously and said, "Yes, I know—the rest of my dress! I've never worn anything like this before. I feel half naked." She wrapped her arms around herself, gesturing with embarrassment at the bareness of arms, shoulders and back in the dress.

He shook his head, looking at her with an unreadable expression in his black eyes. "There is nothing wrong with the dress. It is quite suitable. You will be more modestly dressed than anyone else there. You are missing this."

He waved his wand and a necklace appeared in his hand. He instantly stepped behind her and fastened it. She was unable to suppress a shiver of awareness that passed through her as his hands brushed against the sensitive nape of her neck in the process. The increasingly familiar sense of primitive male pride washed through him as he noted it, smiling to himself. It was an odd thing to have her react so visibly to his slightest touch... and it made him briefly curious to know what other reactions his touch could elicit! That was not a thought process to explore now, however!

The necklace was a very large, tear-drop-shaped opal set on an exquisitely fine golden chain. It exactly suited the dress and the warm honey-brown tone of her skin where it nestled just above the gentle cleavage of her breasts. The fine chain glittered gently next to the iridescence of the thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders. The opal, which was larger than her thumb, exactly mirrored the ephemeral swirling of colors in the dress. It could not have been more suiting to the ensemble if it had been creates specifically for Rowena in that gown.

She looked up at him, astonished. "Did Molly Weasley tell you what I bought?"

"No."

"Then how did you know what would match?"

"I didn't. I waited to see what you were wearing. I have quite the collection. Something was sure to be suitable," he said in bored tones.

She cast him a look of confusion that slowly changed to dawning comprehension. He nodded and answered before she could ask, "Yes, it was my mother's. Shall we go?"

He offered her his arm, but she was looking at him in astonishment, shaking her head, "Oh, Severus, I can't. I can't wear your mother's necklace."

"Don't be ridiculous. It was hers long before she married my father. I doubt he ever gave her anything. She is dead. It's mine now to do with as I see fit. I desire you to wear it. Now, we go."

He took her elbow and guided her gently but forcefully out the door.

* * *

She had expected to see a Hogwarts carriage to take them. Instead there was a huge, ornate carriage in blue and gold, a family crest of an eagle in flight in the background of a large letter "A". She looked at him curiously and he smiled rather evilly. "My mother's as well. Aryssain. It tweaks my comrades terribly that I refuse to use the Snape coach and crest."

She smiled and stepped into the lush velvet interior, where he sat next to her rather than across from her, and they were off. The Thestrals seemed already to know the way. He gave her a small phial and insisted she drink it in the carriage. It was vile, but he said it would be an effective antidote that would last the night through. He then encouraged her to use her "shocking flesh" spell as he called it, if she should need it. Encouragement she did not need.

"Come to me, wherever I am in the room, whenever you like. Take my arm without invitation as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The more who see you do such, the better. Not only do I not dance at these functions; I do not allow anyone to touch me--ever. It will send more statement than any other actions could do, that I am performing my 'duties' as ordered. And do not forget what I said about the midnight dance, no matter what."

She nodded at his instructions and began to force herself into complete mental discipline and control. This was not the time to give way to flights of fancy about the charismatic man next to her.

He was indeed in black. These dress robes were of fine silk, even better tailored to him than the last. The usual billowing cape was a lighter silk as well, much thinner than the usual armor of heavy material he generally wore from head to toe. What a contrast they made in their silks, black and white, yin and yang.

The carriage landed and an elegant porter opened the door and handed her out. She took Severus's arm when he alighted, and walked sedately in at his side. Unusual circumstances not withstanding, she felt incredibly contented for the moment to be accompanied by him to such an elegant event. His cat-like grace was more pronounced as he, too, put on his usual facade more firmly.

The Malfoy's "Manor" was really a huge mansion, the ground floor of which was taken over nearly entirely by a grand ballroom, surrounded by French doors thrown open on all sides to admit the breeze and allow glimpses of a grand, formal garden outside.

The women present were dressed, as Severus had said, as though trying to reveal as much as propriety would allow. Skin-tight dresses in garishly bright colors, with thigh-high slits, deep plunging necklines and backs, long, gaudy, brightly-painted nails, and thick, heavy makeup abounded. Many of the women wore full-length arm gloves to compensate for the lack of dress, leaving Rowena to suspect that they were Death Eaters.

They were greeted with the false warmth and friendliness of the Malfoys, though Lucius did not attempt to kiss Rowena's hand as he had been doing with the other female guests. "You are looking particularly radiant, tonight, Rowena. Will Severus be keeping you all to himself, or will he allow you to dance with others?"

"She is free to do as she wishes, Lucius, as well you know," Severus answered in bored tones before Rowena could respond.

"Ah, then if that is the case, do let me request to be honored with a dance during the course of the evening. I open the dancing with my beloved Narcissa, of course. But at some point, you must allow me?"

Rowena just managed a polite nod, which seemed enough for him, and then he turned to the next guests entering.

Severus guided her as they wandered the room, exchanging cool greetings and introducing her to others as "Professor Lupin". When Lucius and Narcissa moved to the center of the dance floor, however, he dropped her arm and moved to a corner table. As though on cue, one of the men he had introduced her to earlier stepped over and asked her to dance.

After the Malfoys had danced quite gracefully, alone for several minutes, some silent signal was given that allowed others to join them, and her partner lead her to the dance floor. She wouldn't allow him to hold her bodily against him, as many of the other couples were doing. Instead she stood as far from him as possible with her hand on his shoulder, his on her hip, and their other hands clasped in the air in standard "Waltz" position one is first taught in primary school as a child.

The orchestra played well, and her partner danced well, but she couldn't help feeling the frequent questioning glances cast her way, and the leering looks of more than one male guest.

She was passed, seemingly as one might pass a dish of food around a large table, from one partner to the next endlessly. None had intelligent conversation to offer, nor even pointed questions to evade. It seemed they were robots, all here to dance to the whim of the Malfoys.

She endured what seemed to be never-ending hours of this repetitive dancing. Whenever she looked for him, she always found Severus standing among others, but his eyes were always upon her. It never failed to cause her face to heat when she saw him looking at her in that inscrutable way!

Occasionally she would take a break and stand silently next to Severus, her hand through his arm as he had instructed. But mostly she danced, never with the same partner twice. At last, truly fatigued, she gently declined the next request and set off in search of Severus.

He was standing, leaning against a tall pillar where he had been watching her. She felt her face flush and recognized the ever so slight sardonic lift of his brow. He was, as he had told her, being aggressively "courted" by fathers and their "eligible" daughters.

He was currently in the company of two middle-aged gentlemen who were likewise accompanied by two much younger women who were smiling and simpering at Severus like the evil stepsisters at Cinderella's ball. She chided herself internally for the silly comparison, but it seemed apt.

Wordlessly she stepped up next to him from behind the pillar and looped her hand gently through his arm. He did not look at her or alter his conversation with the men in front of him. One might have believed he didn't even notice her presence. This was no different than the several other times she had approached him in this way so far this evening.

However, his other hand crossed over to lie gently against her fingers, a gesture she had not expected at all. The incredulous and angry glares of the two girls were enough to tell her that this had all the effect he had wished. In short order, all four left on lame excuses of having other people to talk to.

He looked down at her then, and allowed her to see a brief moment of wry humor in his gaze before he closed himself off again. "Do you dance with an invisible partner as well as your visible one, Professor Lupin? I dare say you could fit an entire additional human being in the space you seem intent to leave between yourself and your dance companions. You are adding to your reputation of frigidity."

She scoffed. "They stand plenty close enough, thank you very much. And their wandering hands are about to win them the experience of my Navitas Texi."

He coughed, which might have been covering a small laugh, and then looked at her contemplatively.

"Come then, Rowena. Let us show them how it's done," and he made as to move to the dance floor, but she held him back.

"Severus—you don't dance."

"It's not because I can't, I assure you. Your behavior tonight, combined with mine, has given rise to the general assumption that we are lovers, if not engaged. I've decided that the convenience of getting the matrimonial dragons off my back will far outweigh any risks involved in dancing with you."

"I'm so glad I can be of service," she said sarcastically, but followed him to the dance floor with a smile.

"Indeed." He replied, dryly.

But then all conversation was over. He turned to her, and she was already trembling in anticipation. He placed a strong hand on her waist and turned her to face him, his eyes boring into hers. She did not hold **him** at arm's distance! He pulled her into his arms, and she went to him fully, almost melting against him instantly. Their bodies brushed gently together in time with the music and the rhythmic steps of the dance, and she was lost in sensation and pleasure. The warmth of his body against hers was delicious; an all-encompassing sense of security enveloped her as his arms held her.

Severus danced as he did everything else, with the perfect dichotomy that was his very essence: the easy, unconscious grace that was so much a part of him, and yet the total intensity of attention that he gave to everything he did.

The thin silk of her dress, and of his robes, made her feel as though there might as well be nothing between them. It was an amazingly sensual feeling to have the opposite silks, ebony and ivory, sliding between them back and forth as they moved rhythmically. Every movement was sensual, seductive. The friction was electrifying.

He pulled her closer to him, holding her tighter still, and slid his hand up from her waist to the center of her back, under her hair, so that it was full against the bare skin of her back. The feel of his hand on her flesh seared her, and she almost gasped from the sheer intensity of the sensation. Her heart raced and her breathing became erratic, nearly panting.

They did not speak. Indeed, she felt herself without the power of speech at that moment, lost as she was in the magic of his embrace. He stared deeply into her eyes as they danced, though he kept his emotions firmly concealed. She was not so successful. The shocking feeling of newly discovered, newly ignited desire was more than she could quickly or easily suppress. Her body felt wholly different, and a heavy tightening sensation shuddered through her core, as a deep longing for some unknown thing filled her. Her face was flushed and her lips ever so slightly parted as she stared at him with undisguised admiration and desire.

The waltz was winding to an end when at last he spoke. Very quietly, and without betraying a hint of emotion on his face, he said, "You will need to secure your emotions, Rowena. Though I doubt anyone will refer to you as "frigid" anymore tonight. Or accost me to marry their daughters for that matter."

She blushed deeply and lowered her eyes from his face, forcing her emotions and her body under more rigid control. By the time the dance was completed, she was able to step away from him with tolerable calmness, though he kept her hand in his arm and took her to the buffet table. Still breathless and flushed, she avoided looking at anyone for the present, her mind awhirl in emotions.

She had been completely unaware of the astonished, curious looks they had attracted from the other guests as they danced. He was not. She could hardly understand what a wholly unique and remarkable thing it was for Severus Snape to so much as look at a woman at these events, let alone dance with one. And their contrasting clothing, the grace of their movements, and the obvious infatuation of her at least, made them quite the topic of interested murmurs around the room. At the very least it would be known (in the circles where it needed to be known) that Severus was definitely _working_ on the scientist!

He was disgusted anew that she should be so tainted with such disrespect and revolting assumptions. He suppressed the emotions—she had insisted on participation, after all. Still, he would have wished otherwise. Severus was not a man to dwell on emotions, however. He directed her silently toward the tables.

There was no sit-down dinner, but rather a constant grazing of a wide variety of expensive finger-foods. A few small tables and chairs were set near the buffet for the convenience of the diners.

They collected wine and plates, though she did not choose much, her appetite being absent in nerves and emotions. They had just sat down when Lucius and Narcissa descended upon them like circling birds of prey.

"Well, well, well... That was quite an entertaining display. I see now why you have never graced our dance floor before, Severus. You were waiting for just the right partner," said Lucius with polished humor.

Severus made no answer, merely looked at him coolly, while Rowena sat in embarrassed silence.

"Wasn't that absolutely darling, my beloved?" Narcissa asked, addressing her husband with no more warmth or affection than she addressed anyone else, though throwing around endearments like candy. "Rowena, you are such a lucky thing. Severus is such a catch! You will be thoroughly despised by dozens of young ladies here, I assure you. When is the happy event?"

"Really, Narcissa. Just because I danced with her does not immediately oblige me to marry her. Don't be absurd. It would be quite uncouth of me to bring her as my guest and then not dance with her, would it not? Surely you don't think me so wholly without refinement as that?" Severus asked her dryly.

She gave a high, false laugh and then answered, "Of course not, Severus, darling. But when have you ever brought a guest to our parties? And then to see the two of you together like that... why, you nearly set our dance floor on fire! I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions...Oh, my, perhaps you haven't asked her yet and I've just spoiled your surprise?"

Lucius rolled his eyes and addressed Rowena, "Please excuse my beloved wife. She wishes all her friends to be as happily married as we are, you see, and imagines more than she ought in the simplest of gestures. I hope you are enjoying our Fete. I will claim my dance with you shortly. Unless you would care to share the midnight dance with me?"

Rowena opened her mouth to reply when Severus broke in, "She most certainly will not."

Lucius bowed to his friend with a knowing smile, "I see. Of course. Well, a different dance then." And he escorted a laughing Narcissa away from their table.

Rowena managed to make it through the rest of the evening with no great occurrences. She did dance once with Lucius, who was the perfect and proper gentleman, not even attempting to hold her closely or improperly, and who danced with almost equal grace as Severus. Perhaps a more honest, less biased person would admit that he danced _more_ gracefully, but one cannot expect Rowena to think so!

She also was forced to use her Navitas Texi spell once, when Warrington, of all people, showed up and attempted to insist on dancing with her. Not only was she not in any way derided for this, but also Warrington was bodily removed from the building with many apologies to her from Lucius. Severus avoided the entire scene, though when she next looked at him, his rage was obvious to her at least, even from a distance. When he could next speak to her without being overheard, he inquired minutely into the incident, making certain she was all right.

At last, the "midnight dance" was announced. She had no idea why this was such an event, but she had turned down at least half a dozen requests for this, in addition to Lucius's. She had expected to be sitting it out entirely, and thereby be able to observe its significance. That was not to be. As she was looking for a vacant seat to rest and perhaps have something to drink, Severus came behind her and gently took her arm.

"My apologies, Rowena," he said, but his silky tones did not sound the least contrite, "my gesture earlier of dancing with you may have been ill judged after all. I'm afraid it makes it completely impossible for you to sit out this dance. May I?"

She nodded mutely and looked away from his intense gaze in an attempt to school her thoughts and emotions before the assault on her senses began. Unsuccessfully, of course.

From the moment he pulled her into his arms again, her body became heated in an instantaneous response to his touch.

She had thought to avoid his eyes this time, while she danced with him, but this left her more aware of his body, as her line of vision was filled with his chest and shoulders. He was tightly buttoned up to the throat—a plethora of buttons that made her long to touch them and undo them—a thought that shocked her as it flitted through her mind! This severe mode of dress was his wont, but a few black hairs peeked out over the top of his collar, and she could see his pulse in his neck. She was aware of the warm, spicy scent of him as their bodies moved together, and her own body and emotions were again in chaos, her breathing again ragged, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

At a few seconds before midnight, the music stopped abruptly, as did all the dancers, as though on cue. She looked up at Severus in curious surprise, and attempted to step back a bit, though he tightened his arm and held her close.

She met his eyes, and now his were not black and impassive, but dark and stormy with emotion, his brow furrowed. "Rowena, I did not intend this... not like this."

She still didn't understand, and her lips were slightly parted to ask what he meant, when Narcissa called out in her clear, high voice, "Twelve strokes of the clock everyone!" and the large grandfather clock in the hall began to chime loudly. She was only vaguely aware of the couples in her peripheral vision kissing each other when Severus tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed her gently.

It was the merest brushing of lips together, yet she felt her heart explode in wild rhythm. She leaned forward to be closer to him, her body screaming for the contact. He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly, and pressed his lips against hers more firmly. He didn't make any attempt to deepen the kiss, but simply held her close.

She could feel a slight tremble in his body against hers, as thought he was restraining himself with great difficulty. She wrapped her arms gently around him, but with her own brand of rigid self-control, prevented herself from winding her fingers through his hair.

At last the sounding of the clock was over, and they parted. She, reluctantly, he, with the air of one who had been burned. The party seemed to be over, and the guests began to take their leave.

He judiciously avoided the que waiting to say goodnight to the Malfoys and instead steered her immediately to the door. He handed her silently into the carriage, and sat across from her rather than next to her. Her emotions were in a terrible state! He had awakened feelings within her that she hadn't even known existed, and now he was plainly trying to distance himself from her as quickly as possible!

She couldn't stand the silence, and asked tremulously, "Why would Lucius ask me for that dance when he's married? Wouldn't Narcissa be upset? Wouldn't there be a big scandal?"

Severus snorted, looking out the window, avoiding looking at her as he had since the kiss. "Their love, Rowena, is perfectly imaginary. She keeps all the social niceties, and matches him in coloring so that she looks nice on his arm. He is rich and has the Malfoy name. He 'shags' whomever he wishes, as does she. I doubt not that they were 'snogging' separate partners tonight. Though I confess, I was rather too occupied to notice," he finished dryly.

She blushed and looked away. Apparently he was sorry he kissed her, which upset her greatly, as she hand enjoyed it. Still, she wasn't going to venture any nearer the subject, and instead looked out her own window until they arrived at Hogwarts.

He then walked her to her quarters, entered with her, and sealed the door, as had become nearly standard with him lately.

She started towards the kitchenette to make tea as had become her habit as well, when he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him and looking deeply into her eyes again.

His voice was deep and soft when he spoke. "I do not need to ask you, Rowena, what part of tonight was a ruse. Your body and your beautiful eyes displayed the truth for anyone with eyes to see. I do not wish you to think I regret what happened—remember I never, ever do anything I do not wish to do.

"I only regret that the first time I kissed you, the first time I kissed any woman, would be in a room full of people; the worst kind of people at that."

He had brought his hand up to her face as he spoke, caressing her, and then allowed his thumb to softly run along her lower lip, staring intently at her full, bow-shaped mouth.

"I would like to do the thing properly..." he said, his voice now barely more than a husky whisper that sent a thrill of excitement through her.

Slowly, almost shyly, as though he wanted to give her plenty of time to back away, he brought his lips to hers again. She did not back away, but leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him, allowing her fingers freedom to play in his hair.

His lips were like satin. He kissed her with the trepidation of inexperience, yet the emotion behind the kiss would not be denied. This time, she gently parted her lips to taste his kiss fully. He met her timid exploration with his own tongue, and her world reeled. The hot taste of him as he stroked her tongue with his own, exploring her mouth was enthralling. Never had she imagined a kiss could feel so intimate!

His arms were around her, one hand in her hair and the other caressing the bare skin of her back, leaving hot trails of tingling flesh in its wake. Her body ignited to his touch at once, and she was aware of the tight ache of her hardened nipples where they pressed against his chest.

His mouth was hot and sweet, and her body responded to him primitively. She held him tightly, feeling as though somehow every fiber of her body was screaming to be close to him, to be part of him. A molten, honeyed fire that had already been newly awakened by him this night was now burning higher. A strange, tingling, tightening sensation filled her lower body, making her instinctively, brazenly press herself tightly against him.

She had been kissed before. Some of her more pleasant dates had been awarded a few kisses. Yet those men might have been blocks of stone for all the emotion they inspired within her. They were nothing at all in comparison to the sweet bliss and passionate fire that was Severus's kiss.

At last he pulled away from her, though he still held her close, his arms around her waist. She whimpered slightly in longing when he pulled away, her eyes heavy lidded and stormy with newly awakened desire. Her arms continued to cling to him, her hand entwined in his ebony hair. Bringing up a hand to brush a stray tendril of hair away from her face, he gave a slight smile.

"This is not something to be rushed, no matter what biology may say otherwise. I have rarely followed any external ideas on what is right and proper in anything in my life, Rowena. But this... whatever this becomes for us... needs time and respect. I intend to give it both."

She nodded, in reluctant agreement, still looking silently up at him, her lips pink and dewy from his kiss. He smiled again, more warmly and genuinely than she had ever seen, and her heart nearly stopped. Merlin's Beard! When he smiled like that—she had always found him attractive, even beautiful in his own very rugged way. But when he smiled, he was truly handsome. But it was more than that. His smile struck that chord deep inside her, that part of her soul that had always been drawn to him.

In that instant of his brief smile, she knew with blinding clarity that she would never be free of this man. Whether or not they ever came to anything like love, there would never be another man for her. Her soul had known it since the first time she had seen him. But now she recognized it rationally as well.

He kissed her again, a deep, tasting kiss that was none the less brief, and then said, "To that effect, I need to leave now, lest the look in your eyes or the demands of my own body sway my resolve."

Indeed, she could feel the pounding of his heart against her chest and the raggedness of his breathing matched her own. Still, she felt like a starving person given their first taste of ambrosia. How would she ever get enough of his kisses now that she had tasted them?

She blushed again and looked away. "I had a lovely evening, Severus. In spite of the circumstances."

"Surprisingly enough, I almost enjoyed myself as well," he said dryly.

She reached up to remove the necklace when he grabbed one of her hands in his.

"Keep it, Rowena. A gift. I insist."

He could tell she intended to protest, and so silenced her with a kiss, deeper and more lingering than he had intended, pulling her tightly against him again, his own body no less awash in desire than hers. He stepped away abruptly, leaving her breathless, kissed her hand instead, and quickly left the room.


	12. Chapter 12: Family Issues

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

We have to address some more of the Remus/Rowena connection, and also Katrina.

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Chapter 12: Family Issues

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A knock on her door roused her from sleep. The sun was shining brightly through her window, and she realized she must have slept quite late. It had taken her body a long time to cool down enough for sleep after Severus's stirring kisses; her resultant dreams had been pleasant, but far from restful!

She was in royal-blue satin pajamas, full length and very, very modest, one might even say boring. At any rate, she didn't hesitate to go and open the door, thinking it was perhaps Minerva, who sometimes called if she missed a meal.

It was Remus. She frowned at him for a long moment before stepping aside to allow him in. She walked away from him and the door, and he didn't bother to shut it fully.

Remus looked tired and worried. He had deep lines on his face that shouldn't have been there at his age. For a moment she had a wistful longing and genuine concern for the brother he had been. But she squashed it at once.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Brother?" she asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

He moved closer so that he could face her and tried to keep his voice light and friendly. "Just checking in on you, Rowena. I came to talk to Severus about my potion—I'll need it next week, and I thought I'd stop in and see how you were settling in. I've been here all morning, and was worried when I heard you missed breakfast."

She bristled visibly and said angrily, "Are you still expecting Severus to make that potion for you? Why don't you learn to make the bloody thing yourself? Hasn't he got enough on his plate without worrying about that potion?"

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Rowena, please. I didn't come to argue with you about Severus Snape! I understand he took you out somewhere fancy last night. I hope you had a good time. I hope you're happy. I hope he can somehow manage to treat you right. To say that he's normally cold and unpleasant would be an understatement!"

"Remus! That's enough!" she said angrily, her voice rising, "It's none of your business, and if you're just here to be insulting, I want you to leave. He's had enough of that from your lot already. Don't bring it to me."

"Rowena, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head... and he did look contrite! "Listen. I have a great deal of respect for Severus. He's smart and he's putting himself to great risk to help out the Order. There was a lot of stuff that we did when we were kids that I wish I could go back and change, but I can't.

"I just don't like you being involved in this. I'm worried about you. I trust him... I really do believe he's on our side, no matter what Moody says. That doesn't change the fact that what he's dealing with is incredibly dangerous. If you get involved with him, then you're in danger, too. You've waited this much of your life to get together with him. Can't you wait a bit more? Don't do this now, Rowena... it's too dangerous."

Rowena was fuming by the time he had done. "Are you quite finished? I don't want your opinions or advice on my relationships, Brother. I've waited this long, you're right. I'm not going to let it go now in the hopes of picking it up again later after you-know-who is gone.

"He is in danger—we're all in danger! I don't want to one of us to die tomorrow not knowing what could have been if I'd only been willing to try! Just because YOU show your love for people by pushing them away 'for their own good' doesn't mean that everyone does. Or that your way is even the best way."

"Wena, please, you've got to think about..." he tried to say, placatingly.

"NO!" she said vehemently, "I don't care, Remus. I am a grown adult. I want this, no matter what happens, and I don't want you interfering in my life. If you want to be my 'brother', then respect and support my decisions. Otherwise, stay out of my life!"

"That sounds rather decided, doesn't it Lupin?," said a very deep voice, dripping with sarcasm. "You heard her. I believe the lady asked you to leave."

Severus was standing in the open doorway. He had approached so silently that neither Lupin had noticed him, nor had any idea how long he had been standing there. He was leaning against the frame surveying them with a look of sardonic amusement on his face; his dark eyes fixed firmly on Remus.

"Hello, Severus. I wasn't aware that my personal conversations with my sister were any of your concern. Lupin family business, you know. I'm sure Rowena will come and find you when she wants to see you. I haven't finished talking with her."

"Yes, Remus, you have," said Rowena firmly, before Severus could respond. "I thank you for your concern. I'm sure you meant well. I won't discuss this with you again. Either support me in MY choices, or leave me alone. And either way, I would like you to leave now."

Severus stepped aside from the door and gave Remus a sarcastic flourish of his arm, towards the door, accompanied by an ironic bow. For Rowena's sake, he held back the snide comment that ought rightly to have accompanied the gesture.

Remus stopped face to face with Rowena. He was a bit taller than Severus, which made him considerably taller than Rowena. The two Lupins looked at each other with identical frowns of displeasure, though for different reasons. Severus was struck anew with how very alike they were in appearance, and wonder at how he had never suspected their relationship in school!

Remus broke eye contact first, and nodded. "All right, Rowena. You know you can always call me if you need anything. Ever."

"Yes, Remus. I know."

He bent and kissed her cheek, and then left, shutting the door.

Severus watched her for long moments, more than a little amused at her obvious anger. Once again she had been fighting with her own brother, in defense of _him_. He wasn't at all certain how he ought to feel about that, but rightfully or not, he felt a surge of something like warmth and pleasure at her determined loyalty to him over all else.

"I believe your brother thinks he is protecting you," he said at last, gauging her reaction.

She frowned up at him with her chin at a very defiant angle. "I don't care to be 'protected' by shutting myself off from the people I care about. That's my brother's idea of 'protection'. Don't ever try to protect me by pushing me away, Severus. I deserve more respect and credit for my own abilities and intelligence than that implies."

"Agreed and noted," he said. And then with a small smile that might almost have been called teasing, he asked, "Am I one of those people you 'care about' that your brother wants to keep away from you?"

She blushed pink but gave him an arch look, "I think you already know the answer to that."

With quick, silent grace he moved close to her. He reached out and wound his hand through the masses of flowing hair and pulled her to him, slowly bringing his mouth to hers and kissing her gently. His kiss was more confident than the night before, yet still held the trepidation of newness.

"I know the answer," he said softly as he pulled away from the kiss, "Perhaps I just wanted to hear you say it. On the other hand, maybe I just enjoy making you blush," he said, and then claimed her mouth again.

With the first touch of his lips on hers, she wound her arms about him. By the time the second kiss had ended, she felt breathless and her lips were pink and swollen from the kisses.

His dark hair hung in curtains around his face, and she reached up and brushed it gently off his cheek. She managed a shy smile and kissed his chin. "Of course you are one of the people I care about."

"So naturally that makes me one of the top candidates on your brother's list of 'People to keep away from Rowena', is that it?"

She rolled her eyes in disgust and nodded, stepping away from him. "You've got it. Listen, I slept through breakfast. Would you like to join me for lunch? I'll just fix something here."

"Yes, you layabout. You did sleep through breakfast. I am here to bring you to MY quarters for lunch. Go get dressed and come along. We'll be late to the hospital if you don't quit dawdling."

"Your quarters? Why?" She had never been to his quarters in the month and a half she had been coming to the castle, and the invitation startled her.

"Because I wish it," he said imperiously, "Enough questions, woman! Get dressed or dine in your pajamas, the choice is yours. Ten minutes." He then sat in the chair and pulled a book off her shelf and began skimming through it.

She gave him a haughty sniff and pretended to be affronted by his authoritative manner, but she left the room without argument. He could hear her fussing about in her room and bathroom... but there was something nudging at the hem of his robes. He fortunately recalled that she had a familiar of some sort that he had yet to see—otherwise he would have brought his heel down sharply and suggested she ward her quarters against mice.

The creature was a ferret, precisely the same honey-brown color as her hair. He looked at it in surprised amusement before lifting it gently next to him on the couch. It was not more than three pounds and barely longer than the full length of his hand and wrist.

"So, you are 'Vixen' I presume?" he drawled to the creature. She merely looked at him with beetle-black eyes and began snuffling her way through his pockets.

In short order Rowena came out of her room, dressed in deep green robes, her hair loose and brushed to a high sheen. He looked at her approvingly and stood fluidly. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the ferret who had buried herself inside it. "I believe this belongs to you?"

Rowena smiled and took the creature warmly into her arms. "Yes, this is Vixen. I forgot you hadn't met her yet. She mostly hides under the furniture. She's wonderful to search the flat before I come in, though. I've started letting her into my lab and things as well. I haven't needed to do my ritual search of my quarters since I moved here. I suppose partially due to her, and partially due to the basic aura of safety of this old castle. Though I do sometimes have to scour under the furniture for missing quills and things. Ferrets like hoarding."

She looked up at him slightly defensively, as though she expected him to poke fun of her pet. "I know ferrets aren't used much as familiars, but she suited my needs perfectly. She's quite intelligent."

He gave her a wry smile. "Indeed. Are you ready to come for lunch?"

She put Vixen down on the couch and nodded. He took her hand and led the way. Instead of going through the halls, they went through the various connecting doors—her quarters to her office to her classroom to her lab, to his lab, his classroom, his office, and finally his quarters.

"I want you to be familiar with using this route once the students return so that we may visit each other discretely," he said by way of explanation. He was amused at her embarrassment, and also slightly embarrassed himself when she was forced to reveal her passwords through her doors. One was "Severus Bach", the other was "Snape Shakespeare". He had never been the object of a woman's infatuation before, and he was still not used to it by any means; though he was learning to find it pleasantly amusing.

He escorted her inside and then watched her reaction. It was very similar in lay-out to hers. But there was nothing here of decoration or warmth. Functional furniture. Drab colors, mostly varying degrees of grays and browns. Chess set on the table. Rows and rows of books around the fireplace. A wireless box for music. But there were no decorations, no photographs, not even windows, being in the dungeon. Nothing that showed anyone actually LIVED here. It was tidy to the point of fastidiousness.

She turned and smiled at him somewhat wistfully. "Its just what I expected of you, Severus. Immaculate and functional, but no comforts, hmm?"

He snorted in derision. "Comforts only make you soft. Come now, in the kitchen, and keep me company while I make lunch.... Oh, here."

He gave a low soft whistle and then bent to pick something up. He turned to her and deposited a pitch-black... ferret... into her arms. This ferret was obviously male, being twice as big as Vixen. He was so black that light seemed to be absorbed into his thick fur. His glittering black eyes were bright and intelligent, and he immediately began to snake his way through her pockets as Vixen had done to Severus.

She looked at him in shocked surprise. He was actually smiling. "Phantom. I acquired him shortly after that first day I met you at your Ministry lab. Peter Pettigrew is an animagus—he becomes a rat. The Dark Lord has set him to spend at least part of his time lurking around the school. Partially as another source of information, partially to keep tabs on ME. Phantom watches for him. That's how I knew he was on the grounds the day of the Memorial. He has proven himself quite useful."

She grinned back. "No wonder you didn't tease me about Vixen. The woman at the shop tried to dissuade me from getting her because of the hoarding thing. But really, it was quite ridiculous for her to try. I mean, when you're seeking a familiar, you don't really get to choose what is going to bond with you."

"But you must admit, they are an unusual creature for that purpose," he said dryly. She couldn't help but wonder if he also found it interesting that they had been bonded to similar creatures, possibly within a few days of each other.

He moved into the kitchen area and began preparing their meal. He wouldn't let her help, and was obviously as comfortable in the kitchen as in a potions lab. He quickly prepared a meal of a very savory vegetable stew, salad, and even a chocolate cheesecake for dessert, though that he had made earlier. He pretended to be affronted at her apparent surprise that he could cook.

"I was raised by my French mother, when my father could be forgotten. One does not get raised by a French Woman and not know how to cook. Though if you ever imply that there is any similarity between the mundane art of cooking and the very complex and subtle art of potions-making, or that potions-making is nothing more than 'following a recipe', I'm afraid I will have to hex you."

She laughed lightly and held up her hands in mock defense, "I wouldn't dream to imply any such thing... at least not where anyone might hear me."

"Indeed."

"Severus... why did you invite me here? It's my turn to try to figure out what YOU expect from me," she said with an air of trepidation.

He looked at her as though surprised with the question. He shrugged and ran a hand through his lank, black hair. "I wanted to be with you somewhere that we didn't have to feel on display. This is totally new territory for me, Rowena... the idea of "dating" or whatever this is. I wanted to be with you, nothing more."

She nodded and smiled shyly, "I wanted to be with you, too. And regardless of what you seem to think of my experiences, this is pretty new territory for me, too. I've dated, like I said, but you've already surpassed my personal record for number of dates, if we count the St. Mungos trips. Most men don't keep asking the 'frigid scientist' out again after they've been rejected a few times."

He looked at her in contemplative silence a few minutes, and then continued answering her previous question. "As far as what I expect from you... I don't even know. Just to give me time, I suppose, to decide what I'm capable of... with you. I am concerned for you, Rowena. Your brother had a good point. There is grave potential for you to be seriously hurt here. It is very dangerous to associate with me at all because of my work, in addition to the emotional aspect.

"I already know you care for me more than any other person ever has, with the possible exception of my mother. That is... flattering, I suppose would be a good word, and intriguing...

"But what happens to you when we find, as I'm afraid we will, that either it is not possible for me to return your affections, or at least not to the degree that you need; or that I am not at all the man you have imagined me to be?"

She frowned at him and sighed. "Severus, I need you to stop worrying about me here! You've got enough to do to figure out what you want, need, feel, whatever. I'm an adult. I'll be fine whatever happens. There is no possible way that I am going to change my mind about you. It's just going to take time for you to learn to trust that. Just don't pull a _Remus_ and try to protect me by deciding things for me, or pushing me away."

He snorted at this and shook his head. "No indeed. I'm not that unselfish. If you're masochistic enough to want to be with me, I certainly am not going to be noble or honorable and insist that you not."

He was still silent and brooding though, and at last said, "Define 'a few dates'. You've used that term several times in regards to your experiences. Narcissa has implied that..."

Now it was her turn to snort in disgust. "That no one has managed to 'shag' the frigid scientist? She is correct. No one has. I'm not into casual..." Her voice trailed off a moment and she began to blush again. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Casual sex. I just don't see the point. And to be honest, I've never really had any desire to ... experiment."

They both looked down at their now empty plates in discomfort and embarrassment. At last Severus stood and waved the dishes away, and pulled her with him to the couch.

"That seems to be an odd conversation to have sitting at a table," he said quietly once they were seated together.

She laughed nervously, "It seems to be an odd conversation to have, period."

He nodded in agreement, but pulled her close to him where he sat. "It may be. But I have told you before, I am a blunt man. Subtlety is useful in Potions making, not in building trust. I and appreciate honesty and clarity. Apparently, if we arrive at that...point... it will be a case of the blind leading the blind, will it not?"

She looked up at him jauntily, though her blush hadn't faded. "Well, I prefer to think of it as two intelligent people who both enjoy learning, research, and experimentation, simply finding a new venue in which to practice those talents."

His eyes had darkened impossibly as she had spoken, and were focused on her mouth. His deep voice could just be heard before he claimed her lips with his, "Indeed."

His kissed her gently at first. Soft, questioning kisses of lips and tongue, tasting and exploring the newness. Soon they became fiery and passionate, sometimes deep and probing, sometimes sweet and tasting. Hot, nipping kisses of her neck and throat. His hands pressed her to him, and eventually guided her down onto the couch so that he was lying along side her. He played with her long hair, reveling in the satiny feel and sweet fragrance of it.

She wound her fingers through his. It was not dirty nor greasy as people always accused him of... it was merely very, very fine so that it hung straight and lank, and ebony black so that the dark shine gave the illusion of moisture. It was soft and silky in her fingers. She nibbled at his neck and throat as well, delighting in the spicy male scent of him and the taste of his warm skin.

She was nearly wild beside him, her erratic breathing and sweet moans adding to his own fire, her hands kneading his back, his shoulders, twining desperately through his hair. Her body began instinctively to arch against him, pressing herself close to him, wanting some nameless thing.

Abruptly, he stopped. He laid his head on her chest and held her tightly, but motionless, listening to the wild pounding of her heart and breathing, his own no less erratic. Her soft whimper of frustration made him smile, and for a while he simply lay there, waiting for them both to regain some level of equilibrium.

She definitely struck a very primitive male chord within him. He couldn't deny that the idea that she was likewise a virgin excited him. A very possessive sense of pride filled him. She said she had never desired sex, and he had no reason to doubt her. If she had desired it, she certainly could have found it! Yet she plainly desired HIM. What more powerful aphrodisiac could there be than to be desired so ardently by a pretty woman?

At last he sat up, pulling her with him, and met her gaze. She was looking decidedly... rumpled, and also very disgruntled. "Are you deliberately trying to drive me mad, or was that little exercise in frustration done to prove a point?"

He grinned darkly, "Maybe a little of both. This is not the time to cross that particular bridge. But I must admit that I enjoy the journey. You forget that I never engaged in any of that nonsense in my youth. I'm now getting a taste of what I missed. I intend to savor it."

He stood then and pulled her up with him. "Now, I suppose you have a whole bag full of toys and goodies like Father Christmas waiting in your quarters. We should go or we will be late to St. Mungos."

She wrapped her arms around him and stood on her toes to kiss him once more, and then went quickly to gather her things for the children.

* * *

The flight to St. Mungos was... stimulating. One Thestral, and Severus seemed to be perversely determined to be as distracting as possible. Or perhaps he was merely learning the more sensitive places of her neck. Whichever the reason, he held her as tightly as he had ever done, and kissed, nibbled and nipped at the back of her neck and around her ears. When at last they landed, he gave her a satisfied smirk to see her flushed face and desire-darkened eyes.

"You are a cruel man, Snape."

"Indeed, Lupin. I believe I have warned you of such myself."

She grinned in spite of herself, and took his arm as they went to the ward.

There was almost entirely a new group of children than what had been there the first time he had visited with her. He paid little attention to the others, but looked immediately for Katrina. She saw him first, and ran to him, leaping up into his arms. He caught her easily, naturally, and with his usual subdued grace carried her to their secluded corner where she had already stacked books for him to read to her.

Rowena took her turn with all the children, glad to know that the missing ones had found good families. Only two babies today, and these were new—the babies never stayed long. When the time came to take the children outside, Rowena was surprised to find that several swings and some climbing equipment had been installed in a corner of the courtyard since their last visit.

Mandy, the nurse winked knowingly at Rowena and gave a nod towards Severus. She looked at him in open-mouthed shock, but he steadfastly avoided her gaze and instead placed Katrina on a swing and gently pushed her. Soon Katrina tired of the passivity of the swing and ran off to climb and slide with the other children, and Severus was left standing silently, watching.

Rowena approached him. "Severus, "she began.

"Not a word, Rowena," he said, flatly.

She merely grinned broadly at him, and he scowled back. "Do not read something into this," he warned.

"Of course not, Severus. All evil villains I know regularly buy expensive play equipment for hospitalized orphans," she said wryly.

"Indeed? And how many evil villains do you know? Enough cheek from you, Lupin. Since you seem to be enjoying your fun at my expense, you might as well know all. I have also filed papers to apply for Katrina's adoption myself."

She gasped in shock and mouthed wordlessly. Her eyes, though, were filled with sudden compassion and concern.

He glanced at her and frowned darkly, "Do not fret yourself, Rowena. I realize there is no way I will pass their various checks. My past is far too checkered, even with Albus's testimony on my behalf. And they do not let single men adopt little girls, as I was told in no uncertain terms when I filed.

"But, the process will take several months at the very least, and in the meantime, no one else can have her. If they find a likely family, they will let me know. If it's an appropriate one, I will drop my own suit so she can be adopted. Otherwise she is safe. The Malfoys have still been poking around and I'm not about to let her end up with their sort again."

He was still frowning as he watched her play with the other children and continued, "The Weasleys have agreed to foster her until then. I have to admit some trepidation with that choice. Several of their children have been first-rate troublemakers at school. But there is no doubt that Mrs. Weasley is a dedicated and involved parent and Mr. Weasley as well. It's the best choice available at present. When the hospital is ready to dismiss her medically, she will go there."

Rowena was nearly overcome with emotion, her eyes bright. Looking quickly around that the children and Mandy were otherwise occupied, she quickly stood on tip-toe and brushed his cheek with a kiss. She didn't have to be told to realize that Severus was NOT a man to appreciate 'public displays of affection'!

"You are an amazing man, Severus. Thank you."

"Stop it!" He hissed at her, suddenly rising to anger, "I am no such thing. I am giving one child some hope at a future, to make up for dozens like her who probably died in her same situation. Do not forget that it was because of me she was there to begin with."

"I'm not going to start that argument again, Severus. Not here at least."

"Good, because it's not one you will win. You cannot change what I was or what I am, Rowena. No matter how much you might wish it."

"I don't want to change anything about you, Severus," she said, looking at him earnestly.

He snorted and turned away.

* * *

Katrina was to be moved to the Weasley's home a week before term started. Severus and Rowena came to the hospital to help her pack what few things she had—though she had more than most of the other children there, and Rowena could only account for giving her half of the possessions she owned. She decided not to ask, but she was fairly certain she knew the source of the other belongings.

Rowena helped her dress—Katrina wanted to wear a "dressy-dress" to go there, and Rowena recognized the almost universal female need to feel that one looks one's best on the outside to help bolster courage on the inside. She helped her into a pretty "little-girl" dress of royal-blue satin that precisely matched her eyes. A questioning look at Severus, which he aggressively avoided, told her all she needed to know about the origin of the dress. Rowena brushed the child's golden curls and pulled it out of her face with matching blue barrettes.

Severus had decided there was no reason to make a secret of where she was going, since his application and the foster parent appointment were all part of public Ministry records. So he had brought his carriage to transport her, and Katrina was in raptures to see it. "Just like Cinderella's!" she had breathed, reverently.

She had gotten into the carriage with excited eagerness, but it quickly gave way to the quiet fearfulness that was her usual state. She climbed on Severus's lap and clung to him silently.

* * *

The Burrow was a hubbub of noise and activity from the moment the carriage landed. Several of the boys could be seen behind the house flying and practicing Quidditch, but they quickly spotted the carriage on the lawn and flew over. Molly came rushing out to meet them, smiling warmly.

"Professor Snape, Rowena. It's so good to see you again."

Rowena returned Molly's warm greeting with a hug, while Severus exchanged a polite handshake and adjusted Katrina on his hip so that she could look at Molly and the surroundings.

Molly then turned to the tiny child. "Hello, Katrina. Do you remember me? I've visited you with Rowena a few times. I'm so glad you're coming to live with us. Do you like cats? One of ours had kittens last week and they are just ready to open their eyes. Would you like to come see them?"

Ginny Weasley came out the same door Molly had exited a moment before, and let out a soft "Oh!" of admiration, not having seen the child before. "Mum, is this her? Oh, she's so adorable! Hi, Katrina. I'm Ginny. I guess I'm going to kind of be your sister while you live here."

She blushed then, feeling awkward at having addressed the child in his arms without speaking to her Professor, and so tried to remedy the situation. It was hard to reconcile the man that was such a mean teacher with the man who was rather tenderly holding the angelic looking child. "Um, Hi, Professor Snape. I.. um... hope that's okay... I mean, I am kind of going to be her sister, sort of... right?"

Severus was almost as uncomfortable as Ginny. He liked his students to believe him to be the rude, unpleasant bastard that he was; it saved him all sorts of irritation and inconvenience. No one ever tried to 'make friends' or come to him for 'advice', which suited him fine. And yet now he was going to be more informally connected to this family, at least temporarily.

"That is correct, Miss Weasley. I'm sure Katrina will appreciate your kindness," he said with stiff formality.

Just then the three redheaded Weasley boys landed and approached. Rowena had seen Ron at the Memorial, but didn't recall seeing the twins except in photos that Mr. Weasley occasionally brought by the office.

They stood slightly behind their mother and eyed Severus warily. Rowena watched their interaction with great interest. Her colleagues at the Ministry who had kids at Hogwarts had universally decried the 'mean' Potions Professor. Apparently there was something to that, as the boys were looking at him as though he were a poisonous snake prepared to strike. All three looked confused and disbelieving at the interaction between Severus and Katrina.

The twins were first to speak. Being done with Hogwarts, they really had little to fear in the way of ramifications from their former Professor.

"Hi, Professor! Is this our new little sister?" One of the twins addressed Katrina, taking her small hand in his and shaking it gently, "I'm Fred."

"And I'm George," also shaking her hand.

"We have all sorts of new toys we brought home just for you. We invented some of them ourselves."

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley," Severus's deep voice broke in with chill firmness, "This is Katrina. I will be most seriously displeased if I find her hurt, injured, or altered in any way when I visit from your 'toys'. There is to be no purple hair, no ever-lasting tongue tattoos, and no kaleidoscopic eye color. I am certain that we understand each other?" Severus said, his voice calm but his eyes glittering dangerously at the boys. Molly frowned at them as well, and didn't look the least upset at Severus's apparent threatening of her sons.

"Gee, Professor, we wouldn't do a thing to hurt her, honest! Look at Ginny—we've looked out for her, her entire life. And we're fully-qualified wizards these days, so we can keep her safe," said George.

Ginny made a scoffing noise but said nothing.

"Yeah, Professor. She's safe with us. But I love the idea for the kaleidoscopic eyes.. and ever-lasting tattoos is a great idea, too. There's no point in putting them on the tongue, though... No one would ever see them..." said Fred with an excited look at his twin.

Ron was looking uncomfortably from one brother to the next. He was still in school, and a Prefect. Snape could make his life _VERY_ difficult if he wanted to. He cleared his throat nervously but made himself meet the inscrutable eyes of his most intimidating Professor. "We'll do a real good job looking after her, Professor. Fred and George goof around a lot, but we're a family here, and we know how to look out for each other."

Ron then looked at Katrina and grinned, "I'm Ron, Katrina. I have to go to school in a few days, so I won't get to see you much. But I'll look out for you while I'm here."

Severus nodded at Ron, somewhat amused, beneath his discomfort, at the boy's formality. Ron was the younger Potter's equivalent to Lupin in Severus's mind. He was not really the instigator of the trouble Potter always got into, just as Remus had never really been the leader of his little pack. Yet both were also not willing to step forward and put a stop to it. However, none of the kids were truly objectionable, and there was no viable alternative as to where to foster Katrina; no one more trustworthy and well suited to care for her needs.

With a sigh, Severus looked at the little girl, "Katrina, would you like to see the kittens that Mrs. Weasley mentioned?"

"Oh, please... you must call me Molly, both of you. 'Mrs. Weasley' is so formal, and we're going to be family, at least for now. Ginny, boys, take her to see the kittens. She can have one if she wants, at least while she's here."

Katrina had wiggled around in Severus's arms to look about her with wide, fascinated blue eyes, and at last wriggled down. She was very timid, and her English was still heavily accented, but she answered in her sweet, childish voice, "Thank you, Molly."

Ginny grinned broadly and held out her hand, leading her to the garage, but in a moment George... or maybe it was Fred... had scooped her up and set her on his shoulders as she squealed and then giggled happily. Severus watched them go with a rigid mask of impassivity on his face.

"Professor Snape, please be assured that you are welcome here any time. You can visit her whenever you like. I'll send you owls on what she's doing. We're not rich and fancy around here, but I promise you she will be loved and cared for," Molly said, suspecting at once what was probably occurring beneath the surface of the calm exterior.

"Molly, please call me Severus," he said, but the tone or resignation was apparent, at least to Rowena. "I am sure she will have everything she truly needs. I am deeply appreciative to you for opening your home to her like this. She has been through enough, and needs the stability of a sound family. I do not know how long it will be before a suitable permanent family is found."

Molly reached out and took his hand in both of her own, and squeezed it warmly. She was normally a "hugger" in all sorts of situations, but she doubted the stern Professor would appreciate the gesture. As it was, she was glad he allowed her to offer the brief comfort of the handshake without objection.

"Severus, she's welcome here as long as it takes. She might turn into a bit of a tomboy if she gets too much exposure to the boys, but it will be just us two girls most of the time. I'm thrilled to have her be here. This old house is too quiet with no kids stomping around in it. Fred and George are living at home, but they spend the most of their time at their shop.

"Won't you have some tea after we unpack her things?"

An hour later, Katrina's belongings were neatly put away in a closet and chest of drawers that had been added to Ginny's room for her. Katrina had hit it off at once with the entire family, so that the little girl happily went from lap to lap without ever being set down. Molly again assured them that they could visit whenever they liked, and Severus thanked her very formally, and told her he would be stopping by often.

When she realized he would be leaving soon, Katrina became silently tearful and overwhelmed, but she was not a child to wail loudly. She merely clung to Severus like a second skin; her tiny face buried against his shoulder as Rowena and Molly finished saying their good-byes. He spoke to her in low, soothing tones, in German. His voice was so low that even had they known the language the others in the room would have been hard pressed to hear what was said.

It was incredibly strange for the Weasley kids to see the child hold onto this particular man so lovingly... but even stranger to see him holding her and stroking her hair gently. His face was its normal mask of cool impassivity, but the gesture could not be called anything less than tender. Snape was not a person they had ever associated with any 'gentle' feelings!

When he finally pulled Katrina off of him and handed her gently to Molly, his shoulder was dark from her crying, and a muscle twitched tightly in his jaw.

* * *

Thanks for reading this far. Next chapter will be up soon. I really, really appreciate all the kind feedback I've been getting. Please feel free to be specific with comments, criticisms, and suggestions. I was really afraid of "doing" a Snape story. He's a hard man to get "just right". I wouldn't like him mushy and agreeable... but I don't want him downright mean and nasty all the time, either. If you think he's going too far one way or the other, tell me, and I'll try to tweak him. I hope you're enjoying the story. I'm enjoying writing it. I can't wait to get Rowena into some interaction with the kids in school. Coming up very soon, though not quite yet. Next two chapters will have some more interaction with Severus and his darker past, Malfoys, and Remus and Tonks. ----Lisa 


	13. Chapter 13: Darkness Calls

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Lets face it. Even for those of us who are huge Severus Snape fans, the man is emotionally broken. At best. This chapter finds him having to deal with some of the expectations of his role as Death Eater, and also gives us a glimpse of Remus and Tonks. I like the idea of that 'ship, but not enough to write it in a lot of detail, sorry. You will see only glimpses of it here from the perspective of Rowena and Severus.

* * *

Chapter 13: Darkness Calls

* * *

Severus was moody and irritable on the way back to the castle from the Weasleys. This, of course, was hard to differentiate from his normal bitter and irritable state, except for the occasional twitch of the muscle in his jaw.

"I'm sure she'll be fine with the Weasleys, Severus. They're incredibly nice people. Arthur's arranging to have his floo connected to Hogwarts so we can visit whenever we want. We'll probably see her more often now than we did when she was at St. Mungos," Rowena said gently, trying to get him to talk to her. (About his feelings--fat chance!)

"I'm sure you are correct, Rowena," was all he said in reply, leaning his head back against the seat of the carriage with his eyes closed. It was actually a measure of how much he trusted her that he even did that. He normally never allowed anyone to see him in any turmoil, nor did he ever close his eyes in the presence of another. He had no magical eye like Alastor Moody, so had to rely wholly on his own.

He didn't speak further, though. When they arrived on the grounds he walked her to her quarters in silence, but did not accompany her inside or even kiss her goodnight.

"I have potions I must work on tomorrow which I have uncharacteristically neglected. I will be in my lab should you wish to see me. Good night," he said with cool politeness, and then turned and walked away, his robes billowing behind him.

Rowena was concerned for him. He apparently cared for Katrina more than he wanted to admit, perhaps even to himself. She made up her mind to visit him tomorrow in his lab, and went to bed. Her sleep was very restless.

* * *

Severus did not sleep. The potion that was temporarily stopped by the rescue of Katrina was a popular one. He couldn't shake the notion that it would soon be in production again, using another child, another cellar, another brewery.

Katrina's fate also weighed heavily on him. He was not cut out for fatherhood, by any stretch of the imagination. Yet he could not deny that Katrina had bonded with him. When an adoptive family finally appeared, she would be hurt again at the separation. Perhaps it would be best for her if he stayed away now.

He couldn't decide the best thing for Katrina; he had no experience in such things. But he _did_ know that he could save other children from her fate. He would simply have to provide the potion himself, using a substitute ingredient for the blood of a wizarding child. It wouldn't be as good, of course. But it might be months before the patrons noticed the difference. He had created the original potion, after all. He could modify it with an adequate substitution.

He straightened his back rigidly and his face became a mask of perfect calm, as though he was a man facing executioners after wholly embracing and accepting his fate. Even the telltale muscle of his jaw was calm. Slowly, as though approaching a sleeping dragon, he walked to a low cabinet in the corner of the room. He removed a pitch-black wand from the depths of his sleeve and tapped the cabinet once. It sprang open as though pushed from within, and Severus took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself.

The cabinet was full of books and rolled parchment. Even on casual glance these books could not have been thought to be innocuous. They had odd runes in odd colored ink on their spines. On some of them, the runes actually glowed. Blood red, venomous green, one book even had red ink that appeared to be still wet, as though the runes on the spine continually oozed fresh blood. Another had a rigid spine with rings drilled through it to hold the pages. Closer inspection would reveal that spine to be made of bone, yellowing with age.

Severus did not allow his eyes to linger on the books, though his face was now covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. His jaw muscle did not twitch, but it was clenched tightly. His hands did not tremble, but he moved with a stiff rigidity of motion that was unlike his normal catlike grace. With slow deliberation he thumbed through several of the rolls of parchment until he found what he was seeking.

He replaced the other scrolls in the cabinet, holding only one in his hand. His eyes then were drawn to the books. A terrible light reflected in his eyes as he looked at them. He looked perhaps as a man might look under the irresistible spell of a Veela. It was a timeless eternity that he stared at them.

And then he blinked, and their hold was broken, for the moment at least. He stood and waved his wand, sealing the cabinet again. He sighed heavily and conjured himself a steaming cup of very strong tea. He drank, allowing himself a moment to recover and regain his strength and resolve for the next step.

A flutter of wings through his fireplace announced the arrival of an owl; a pitch-black creature with unnaturally red eyes. The owl dropped a small piece of parchment on the desk and then left immediately. Severus ran a tired hand across his face and then picked up the note.

* * *

"_Severus,_

I am hearing rumors from the Faithful that one of your most popular potions has now become quite scarce. The Aurors are interfering as usual, and it seems that the Mudblood-lover's twins are making ingredient acquisition difficult.

_I do so like to reward my obedient servants. I expect you to remedy this situation at once. You will soon have access to all sorts of... ingredients... when your students return._

_Do not disappoint me."  
_

* * *

_  
_

The letter was not signed, but when he had finished reading it began to smolder. First, merely a dark, smoking outline of the symbol that was so hated to him, which matched the hideous mark on his arm. Then it burned brighter and began to flame in earnest. He waved his wand and it fluttered into the fireplace where it burned to ash.

The expression on his face had not changed; he had been expecting this. He was actually surprised that it had taken this long. Narcissa and Bellatrix, among others, had been without their vanity beverage for nearly six weeks. It was only a matter of time before the whinging of the women would get to their spouses enough to bring it to the attention of the Dark Lord. He did '_so_' like to '_reward_' his faithful. And if in the course of that 'reward' he could rid the world of more mudbloods, so much the better.

He started a fire under his cauldron and retreated into his office and his private store-cupboard. He barely referenced the parchment that had cost him so much strength of will to retrieve from the cabinet. The cauldron steamed and bubbled, his thin, fine hair becoming increasingly lank by the minute as the moisture weighed it down.

He was oblivious to the time, his fatigue, or his surroundings as he brewed. Counting strokes, grinding cobra fangs, carefully slicing tortoise liver, weighing powdered unicorn horn and dragon scale... at last the final ingredient was needed. Fresh arterial blood of a child, or a wizard, but stronger if you could get both. They had always used mudblood children. The younger the child, the better the result.

Without a change in expression he pulled a long, thin knife from a drawer and held his own arm over the cauldron. He was by no means a young child, but he was pureblood. An acceptable substitute, though the resulting rejuvenation would not be quite as thorough as the original. In a smooth motion, he opened the artery at his wrist and allowed the blood to flow freely into the steaming, sizzling brew.

How he knew the proper amount is a mystery. He was a Potions Master; perhaps the most skilled Master currently living. After long minutes of watching the blood freely spurt into the mixture, he waved his wand and sealed the wound. It healed seamlessly, leaving only a tiny white line, barely a scratch, in its place.

He made a few other modifications. Adding some features of a strengthening potion to hide the weaker effects of the aged blood. He made additional notes on his parchment as he allowed the potion to simmer under his hawk-like gaze. At last he began to carefully ladle the mixture into a variety of small flasks. He didn't lose a drop, and filled over two dozen flasks with the potion. With a tired sigh he began to clear off, and then replaced the scroll with the recipe into the cabinet.

Perhaps it was because of his fatigue, or that it was the second time in one night that he had done it; for whatever reason, the ordeal of opening the cabinet was not nearly so taxing as it had been the first time. However, he did it very quickly, as though afraid something might escape from inside if left open too long.

He made himself another cup of tea and sat in exhaustion, waiting for the tea to refresh him enough to start on his next, more legitimate project.

* * *

Now it was Severus's turn not to make it to breakfast. Rowena chatted pleasantly with Albus and Minerva, but as soon as the meal was over she left the table. She wanted to go find him, but simultaneously wanted to provide him privacy and space if that's what he wanted and needed. He was not a man to easily figure out!

She was pacing the entrance hall, trying to decide on a course of action, when Remus entered through the main doors, a pretty woman with bright pink hair on his arm. He looked surprised to see her there, but then smiled, "Hi, Rowena. This is Nymphadora Tonks. I don't know if you met her at the Memorial?"

The woman rolled her eyes but ginned and said, "Just Tonks, Remus, how often to I have to tell you? I don't think I had the pink hair at the Memorial." She scrunched up her face with a look of concentration, and suddenly her hair was as white-blonde as Lucius Malfoy's. But Rowena recognized her then—from the Ministry, not the Memorial.

"Oh, you're the Metamorphmagus. I recall you from the lab. Nice to meet you."

"I'm here to get my potion, and Tonks wanted to come with me--to see you, actually. She has more spells and what-not for you to work on," Remus explained cheerfully. There was an altered air about him than when she had last seen him. He was still in old and carefully patched robes; his stubborn and independent nature would never allow him to accept financial assistance from their parents, even though they tried often to help him. But he didn't have the slightly resigned and defeated air about him that he usually carried.

Tonks smiled and nodded, gesturing to a large briefcase slung over her hip. "I've got quite a lot of them, actually. I've been in the field the last few weeks and it's a real nightmare out there, I can tell you. Can I have a bit of your time this morning? Remus was going to go haunt the library and maybe chat with Albus. After he gets his potion, of course."

Rowena couldn't help but smile at the woman's warm friendliness. She was also amused that Remus seemed to be courting the attention of a woman who was an Auror; he had been so intensely protective of her safety until their rift. What more dangerous job could there be? She supposed she might be reading more into the relationship than there was, but the Auror had been holding tightly to his arm, and the warm way they were smiling at and talking to each other led her to suspect they were at least dating if not lovers. She thought that probably explained Remus's apparent alteration.

She nodded, but also gave Remus a worried frown. "I'd be glad to work with you, Miss Tonks. But I think I'd better ask Severus for the potion myself. He had a rather rough day yesterday, there's just no telling what his mood is like today. Maybe you'd let me take you to my lab and wait there while I collect it?"

"Not 'Miss' Tonks, Rowena, really. Just Tonks. I'd love that. I'm no great shakes at research, but I'd love to see where it's done."

"I'll come with you until I have the potion at least," said Remus in a relaxed, friendly tone. Rowena cast him a suspicious glance, but shrugged and led the way to her lab.

She conjured tea for them and left them chatting happily while she used the public hallways to get to Severus's Lab. She didn't want either of them to know that she had more private access. She and Severus had definitely developed a degree of comfort with each other over the last few weeks since the Malfoy's Fete, and she didn't want Remus to interfere and possibly damage that!

She tapped gently on the door, and it swung open of its own accord. He was sitting at his desk, drinking a cup of tea, but he looked absolutely ghastly! She was certain he hadn't been to bed—his robes were surely the same as yesterday's—she could still see the dark stain on the shoulder where Katrina had been crying. His hair was so limp and lank that it was almost plastered to his head. But the worst was the unnatural grayish pallor of his already fair skin, heightened by the fine sheen of perspiration and moisture from the steam of brewing a recent potion.

There was an odd odor in the room, though that wasn't so unusual really; many potions caused odd and even unpleasant odors during the brewing. Still, she felt uneasy. It reminded her of some of the scenes at St. Mungos when she had worked there in the summer. It had an uncanny resemblance to the smell of burning flesh and blood when they had tried to cauterize more severe wounds quickly. She wasn't sure what he had been doing, or brewing, all night; but she was fairly certain that she was happier not knowing.

He seemed surprised to see her and tiredly raised a brow with a questioning look.

"You look like hell!" she said without preamble, "Are you feeling okay? Do you need something to eat?" She moved briskly to him and instantly reached for his wrist to feel his pulse... an old habit from her days of internship at the hospital. She barely had time to note that it seemed weak and thready; slightly more rapid than it ought to have been when he jerked his arm away from her with a sneer.

"I am perfectly fine, Lupin, and don't want or need your molly-coddling. What do you want?" he asked with sharp bitterness in his voice.

She flinched in surprise, but then steeled herself not to reveal that his brusque tone had hurt her, and instead said in cool tones, "I came to see you. My brother's here to collect his potion, and I thought I'd spare you his company by getting it for him."

He didn't meet her eye, but tilted his head towards the general store cabinet. "Top shelf, all the way to the left. Take it and go."

She waved her wand to retrieve the potion, as it was too high for her to reach. She turned to look back at him, wanting to say something, but he was far too lost in his own thoughts.

She had just reached the door when he called out to her, "Lupin... Rowena, thank you. It was a long night, all right? I have a lot on my mind right now."

She stopped and turned back to him, "Severus, why don't you try to get some rest at least? For that matter, why don't you teach Remus to make his potion himself? It might take more time in the short-run, but then you'd be free of the task. Or make him get it somewhere else? I'm sure they sell it in Diagon Alley."

He snorted in disgust and shook his head irritably, "It would take more time than I can spare to teach him to do it. The slightest mistake could render the potion ineffective or fatal. If I make it myself I know it's done properly."

She smiled at him then and nodded. "Thank you, Severus. For caring enough to make certain it's correct when you know no one else appreciates your effort."

"Bloody hell, Rowena!" he snarled, "Quit making me out to be some sort of damned hero, would you? I have enough to worry about without trying to live up to your ridiculous expectations! I have to work fairly closely with that monster you call a brother. It's in my best interest not to have him turn into a slavering werewolf at inopportune moments. It's nothing more than that.

"Now, I have work to do. Good day." And with that, he began to wave potion ingredients to him from various shelves and cabinets.

She left without another word, her own emotions vying between being angry, hurt, and worried for him. Something was seriously upsetting him and he wasn't about to willingly let her know what it was.

Back in her own Lab, Remus and Tonks were laughing happily together. When they saw Rowena they smiled but stopped their conversation.

"Your potion, Remus," she said handing it to him gently. She was still flustered from the altercation with Severus, and not in the mood to watch him flirt with his girlfriend, if that's what she was. Though a part of her did manage to be glad that he seemed to be happier than he had been the last time she had seen him. Smiling made him look much younger.

He held his nose and drank the potion at once, making a horrible face in the process. "Thanks, 'Wena," he said, slipping back into his childhood nickname for her, "I'll go wander around and bug Minerva or Albus or somebody while you girls work, okay?"

"NOT Severus, Remus," Rowena said warningly.

Remus laughed, "Don't worry little sis, I don't have a death wish! I'll be back later."

He closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

"Okay, then, Tonks, what do you have to show me?"

Many things, as it turned out. The Death Eaters were getting more creative. A blinding charm that permanently detached the retina. A scalding hex that shot jets of pure steam that would instantly cause third degree burns. A pulverizing curse that shattered whichever bone it was directed at instantly. A disintegration jinks that would simply destroy inanimate material. This wasn't so bad, Rowena thought at first; after all, it didn't work on living flesh. But then Tonks pointed out that the Death Eaters were directing it at broomsticks in flight and also directly at wands; neither of which was good to have turned to dust when you were using it.

Tonks could describe the effects and give a guesstimate of the incantations. But she couldn't cast any of them, which was an annoyance. Rowena liked to see the spells performed as a way of speeding up counter-spell research. If Severus ever stopped wallowing in whatever irritation was the flavor of the day, she would ask him to show her.

She talked easily with Tonks, who was pleasantly nice and easy to talk to, as she showed the Auror some of her past research and current equations. She was surprised to learn that Tonks really, really liked her brother; her surmise at them being dating if not lovers was not too far off the mark; and she found the whole thing pleasantly humorous.

The amusement quickly faded, however, when Tonks confided in her, "Rowena, I'm going to be going undercover real soon. There's a Death Eater in Azkaban right now that's on the verge of death. They're going to move her to a maximum-security ward in St. Mungos, and I'm going to assume her place. We're staging a breakout from the hospital... Snape is in on that part, though he doesn't know why they want to save her. Another thing to help his ruse with Voldemort, and also another inside source of information, you know?"

Rowena hissed slightly and shuddered at the name, and Tonks continued, "Oh, sorry. Anyway... I haven't told Remus yet. I think he's going to be a bit upset. I wondered if you had any advice...."

Rowena laughed then, and shook her head, "Yes, my advice is don't tell him, don't do it, or break off with him before you go, because he'll have kittens. Do you know anything about the past 20 years between him and me? That's what you're looking at if he finds out. I'm sorry.

"I don't know what to tell you. Remus and I were way over-protected as kids. That makes Remus's idea of love tainted—he thinks to love someone you have to keep them perfectly safe all the time, no matter what. I went to the other extreme of that and get really torqued off and more rebellious when someone tries to do that to me, so neither of us is great in the relationship department. You're in for a rough road, Tonks. And I don't mean just Remus... that particular subterfuge is incredibly dangerous. I don't know how you'll pull it off..."

"Well, I'm a good Legilimens and Occlumens. I'll be using the first, with Veritaserum to find out everything I can. We'll keep her in a secure location so I can keep coming back for questions. The rest, well, even Snape won't know the full of it. Voldemort doesn't like his people knowing who all are involved with him... so we'll be following that lead for a while.

"Anyway, thanks for the advice about Remus. If he's in a really foul mood here pretty soon, you'll know why." She sighed heavily and shook her head. "I really like him, but I've got to do my job, you know?"

Rowena smiled wistfully, "Yeah, I know."

"Well, anyway, I should let you get back to work on these. You can send the counters through Remus or Albus. See you around, Rowena," Tonks said, with a cheerful wave, and then she was gone.

* * *

Another smoldering note delivered by another demonic looking owl roused Snape from his dark reflections, by necessity. With a sigh, he silently stepped through the door connecting his lab to Rowena's in time to hear the tail end of Tonks's conversation.

So. That was why he'd been pegged by Albus to offer to arrange a "rescue". Damn. He wished he hadn't heard... and that Albus wasn't such a fool as to send another person into the dragon's den! When the Auror had left and Rowena had bent back over the notes on the desk he moved behind her.

Silent as a snake, he looked over her shoulder at the spells she had been given. "Would you like me to demonstrate?" he asked sardonically, as though he hadn't just been rude and unpleasant an hour before.

She shrieked and jumped; nearly falling off the tall stool she was sitting on. He put out an arm to steady her; his eyes boring into hers while the start had temporarily weakened her Occlumency defense. Yes, she was hurt and angry with him... well, why shouldn't she be? And yet what right did she have to expect anything less? He was a cold, heartless, evil git! Hadn't he been warning her of that since the start?

But beyond being hurt and angry with him, she was concerned for him. Bollocks. Her affection and compassion in that brief glance touched that long buried part of him that was still human, still a flesh and blood man, still wished for someone to care for him in spite of the fact that he was that cold, evil git.

She shielded herself almost at once—her weakness in her defenses was gradually improving over time, he noticed. She smiled softly at him—smiled at him when he deserved angry words and accusations, and handed him the notes.

"Sure, Severus, that would be really great."

He pushed the notes aside in instantly rising irritation. He didn't need them! Didn't she understand? Utter exhaustion made him more irritable even than usual, and her blind faith provoked him. He snarled at her in disgust.

"Rowena—I am a Death Eater. I don't need your notes," he said, his voice rising to almost a shout, "**_I AM A DEATH EATER_**. Now. Today. This moment. As we speak. How do I get through to you? I am not a 'former' Death Eater—there is no such thing! Once a Death Eater, the only release is death—either mine or the Dark Lord's. Yes, I am working against him, hoping to bring about his downfall and maybe achieve my own freedom in the process. But until then, I remain a Death Eater.

"I have been taught these spells at the hand of my Master. I am nothing but a slave, a puppet. Albus helps me, shields me when he can. The excuse of being a spy for on him from the Dark Lord's perspective saves me from having to participate in the worst of the 'games' of my colleagues.

"The Dark Lord believes that if I were to actively kill or torture while I served him, that Albus would know. The Dark Lord believes my Occlumency to be weak, and Albus's Legilimency to be strong. He believes that Albus would know what I had done if I were to be involved, and so he spares me from the worst of the unpleasantness. But I'm still there, Rowena. My mask, my cloak, my mark—it's all a part of me."

She sighed and shook her head. "Severus... why do you think you have to tell me these things? Do you think it matters to me? I don't believe you to be a Death Eater, even if you-know-who thinks you are his, even if you think you are. A Death Eater wouldn't have cared about the plight of one lone 3-year-old child. Nor would he worry about the effectiveness of the Wolfsbane potion for one of his most hated enemies. Nor would he worry about the heart and feelings of an infatuated woman who would easily give him whatever he asked without question..."

But anger was radiating from him again as she spoke and he was unbuttoning his left sleeve. With the angriest sneer she had ever yet seen on his face, he jerked his sleeve up with a growl and brandished it in her face. The pale skin was crisscrossed with old scars, probably from his childhood. But in the center of the inner forearm, dark red and ugly, marring the pale perfection of his flesh, was the hideous skull, the snake protruding grotesquely out of its mouth like some horrid travesty of a tongue.

"This is the mark of a Death Eater, Lupin!! Do you see? It's red now, but it burns black when the Dark Lord summons me! It is proof of my greatest shame, my greatest mistake!! I will pay for this Mark and the blood I've spilled in it's service for the rest of my life!! No one but a Death Eater wears this mark!! **I AM A DEATH EATER!!** You have got to accept that!" His voice was angry, though his rage and distress seemed almost beyond words.

But then she did something that both horrified him and touched him more deeply than any action any other human being had ever done towards him in his life. She kissed her fingertips, and then gently caressed her fingers over the mark, as though to place the kiss there.

"I do accept it, Severus. I accept everything about you. It was a mistake, yes, okay. But look how much you've done towards atoning for your mistake! Who besides you risks their very lives every day working against Him? Look at all the torment you face, again and again, and still you fight against him. You ARE good and brave and strong, Severus. You just don't believe that about yourself. But I believe it about you."

He stared at her a moment in stunned silence. What could he say to that? Willful self-deception it might be, but there was no arguing her sincerity. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he pulled her tightly into his arms. Not in passion, nor lust, but just simply pulled her into a crushing grip against his chest, burying his face in her hair, holding her tight against him. She wrapped her arms around him as well and returned the embrace. His breathing was erratic, not from desire or passion, but from the force of emotion.

His voice, when he next spoke, was haggard, "Rowena... I don't know how to comprehend this, your faith in me."

"Time, Severus. It will just take time."

He sighed heavily and kissed the top of her head. His anger seemed to have deflated completely. How could he hold onto it in the face of such unyielding faith? "Perhaps. I don't know if there's enough time in eternity to figure you out, Lupin. Or to be worthy of what you seem to want to bestow on me."

He stepped away and withdrew his dark wand, again running his hand tiredly through his hair. "Let me demonstrate these spells for you, while you make notes. We have been summoned for dinner at the Malfoys, under the pretense of introducing their son to his new Professor. We need to leave here at six."

Rowena shook her head and briskly put away the notes and covered the rat cages. "Fine. If we have to face the likes of the Malfoys at six, you are going to sleep, NOW. You don't look like you've slept all night, which hasn't done a thing for your usual charming personality."

He snorted, "Now you expect me to be "charming" as well as "good and brave and strong"? You don't want much, do you Lupin?"

She grinned and pushed him playfully toward the door to his lab and continued right to his quarters, "I don't want you to be a damn thing but your own normal snarky, irritable, grouchy, sarcastic self. But it would be best if we didn't add sleep-deprived to that list. Now. Do I have to make you drink a dreamless sleep potion that will surely leave you tired and befuddled for our dinner date? Or will you be a good boy and go to bed?"

He gave her a feral grin, feeling more at ease with her again, "Is that a proposition, Lupin?"

She laughed teasingly, "Oh, yeah, like in your present state that would be enjoyable for either of us. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Are you challenging me? No, I did not. I hardly think that affects my functioning," he said with a brow raised in challenge.

Now it was her turn to raise a brow in return, though she was blushing brilliantly "I believe you were the one who wanted to wait... isn't that what you've said these past several weeks? On the other hand, I would be more than willing to join you in your nap, if you thought you could manage to SLEEP. I slept poorly last night myself."

"Hmm," he said, pretending to consider, "I believe you are correct, I do intend to wait on that. One thing is certain—it is never good to meet the Malfoys in anything less than top mental form. You need all your faculties sharp around Lucius."

He reached out as quickly and gracefully as a striking snake and picked her up easily. She squealed lightly but wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her to his room. With a wave of his wand, he turned the covers down on the huge four-poster that seemed to be standard-Hogwarts-issue, and deposited her there gently.

"All right then, sleep it is. I've never "slept" with another human being in any sense. I admit to being curious as to whether it is as pleasant as everyone seems to imply," he said with a wry smile.

She laughed, a light-hearted sound that was almost a giggle. "It's more likely that we'll wake with cricks in our necks and more snarky than before."

"Possibly. I think I shall risk it. Now shut up and go to sleep, Lupin," he said with a growl.

However, his actions belied the tone and the words. He reached out and pulled her against him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled against him with a contented sigh, laying her head on his chest, her body warm and soft in his arms. He waved his wand to set an alarm ward to wake them—he was undeniably exhausted—and then he wrapped his other arm around her as well.

Who would have ever thought that he would be here like this? With an intelligent, attractive woman in his arms, experiencing the sheer basic comfort of not being alone. He couldn't ever remember feeling so contented.

Just for the moment, he forced himself to forget that he didn't deserve comfort or peace or happiness. In a shorter time than he would have thought possible, given the circumstances, he had fallen into a deep, comfortable sleep.

* * *

Next chapter coming soon. I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I've fiddled with it for some time and can't quite pinpoint what I don't like. I think it is the near-hormonal-mood swing feel of Severus. Really nasty one moment, and then perhaps too quickly changes his mood. But I think he really would be feeling confused and wrong-footed with this whole thing... I just can't get it to come out "right". Your comments are welcome! 


	14. Chapter 14: Meeting the New Professor

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

This was a difficult chapter to write. I don't "do" the Malfoys very well. Particularly Narcissa, whom we've not seen much in canon. But I liked the Rowena/Severus interaction here, and further plot developments besides just the romance part—which is of course my favorite.

The "white rabbits" reference is of course stolen from the "Alice in Wonderland" story. However, having Severus use this reference in this particular way is credit again to Annii Fraizer, my role-playing friend who played Severus Snape on the role-playing site where Rowena was born. Lots of Annii's Snape in the walk to Hogsmeade conversation.

I lied a bit—I promised the next chapter would start the school year and interaction with the students, but it turns out I need one more chapter before I can start the term. We must find out what goes on with Tonks! I can't wait to introduce you to the new DADA Professor. I assure you Severus will NOT be happy with the newcomer!

As always, your comments and reviews are craved. Thanks!

* * *

Chapter 14: Meeting the New Professor

* * *

A faint buzz like the hum of a bee sounded in the room, the soft sound of a very quiet alarm charm. Severus wakened at once, being an incredibly light sleeper out of years of necessity. He rubbed a tired hand across his face. Phantom, his ferret and familiar had joined them on the bed sometime during the afternoon and had curled in a ball at Severus's neck. The black creature squeaked in protest as Severus stirred, stretched lazily, and scurried off the bed.

Rowena was still sleeping softly, curled up against his side, her head on his chest. He waved his hand to silence the alarm, and then gazed at her, allowing himself a brief moment to be fully aware of her while she slept.

It was normal for Severus to stifle his emotions at all times. He had been doing this since he was a very small child. He had quickly learned that by not allowing himself to feel, he avoided pain. He was now becoming aware of the more positive side of emotions that he had also avoided.

He would never be a demonstrative man. Emotions and their effects would not be something that would ever come easily to him. But he was an intellectual, and prided himself on being willing to look critically at himself. Just for now, he wanted the chance to evaluate the feelings and sensations that swirled inside him in a kaleidoscope of impressions, each more confusing than the last.

The sleeping woman in his arms was warm and soft, her arm draped over his chest, one leg twined gently with his own. Her hair was in its tight braid she wore in the lab, but smelled sweet and felt silky against his chin. His body responded to the warmth of hers instantly. Even before he was fully awake he had felt the desire that had become a constant ache in his groin over the last several weeks, the heavy thickening of his body as it reacted to his thoughts and awareness. His flesh felt more sensitive when she touched him, his body more aware of her contact than it had ever been to any other sensation.

His over-large nose had always been particularly sensitive to scents of all sorts. Yet hers, especially... that sweet, feminine fragrance of her, ignited his senses. He sometimes fancied he could tell when she had been in the Library or even in the hallways by the lingering scent alone.

But these were mere physical responses. He could hardly be called a man if he did not respond to her in this way. A pretty woman who repeatedly proclaimed her faith in him, her attraction to him, her belief in him as a far better man than he was. What man would not respond physically to such attentions?

She deserved more than just biological responses. He forced himself to delve deeper into his emotions, beyond the physical. Rowena touched him at some primitive level. He cared deeply for her welfare. He felt protective of her. He wished her happiness. He doubted very much that she would find the happiness she deserved with _him_, but he did want her to be happy. She stirred his emotions as no one ever had. She could make him angrier than Potter ever had done in an instant... and then with a word, a look or a touch... like the tender caress of his Dark Mark this morning... She could diffuse him as though he was nothing more than a smoking bomb that she had extinguished harmlessly.

But he still did not trust her. He felt a sharp stab of genuine pain at the realization. Not that he felt she was insincere in her declarations, or that she would somehow betray him in his dual role. It was simply that he did not trust her feelings to stand the test of time. She really had no idea who he was, what demons haunted his past. She was too innocent, too trusting, too willing to believe him to be something he was not.

And so there was the crux. He could not trust her affections—was it "love" she held for him already? Not while he continued to believe her to be hopelessly deluded in regards to the kind of man he was. She had pretty words... "I accept you just as you are..." but she had no idea what he REALLY was.

He gave a snort of self-derision. As proof that he was NOT worthy of her faith in his 'goodness'... even this mental conclusion did not change anything. Not for the moment. He was not unselfish enough to turn her away. She had brought something to his life that he had never experienced before, and he was unwilling to lose that already, even to protect her.

Time would prove one or the other of them wrong. He had no hope that it was he, himself who was mistaken. He felt certain that he knew himself too well. He knew enough of his feelings now to know that there would be great pain for both of them when she finally realized he was not the man she believed him to be. But he would allow it to take its course.

His emotional inventory had taken only a few minutes. He then carefully and deliberately shut the emotions away again as neatly and completely as a man might take out working dogs for a run and then kennel them away, forgotten and unnoticed until they were wanted.

Gently he leaned forward and kissed the sleeping woman's lips. Just like in the fairy tales, her lashes fluttered open sleepily and she smiled softly at him. Her chocolate brown eyes met his guilelessly, and he was nearly overwhelmed for an instant at the pure emotion visible there. Based on a weak foundation, they might have been, but there was no doubting the strength of her feelings, nor that they were genuine.

He closed his own eyes—it was almost painful to see that level of untainted affection directed at himself—and kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around him, encouraging him on. He parted her lips with his tongue, nibbling her lower lip with his teeth, and then claimed her mouth hungrily. He drank in her soft, whimpering sigh and delighted in the immediate quickening of her breath.

Another sensation... pride... his male pride was definitely stroked when he could feel her body respond so quickly to his touch, his own desire heightened with the evidence of hers. He pulled her tightly against his body, as though to meld her with himself. Her fingers clutched his hair almost painfully as she met his kisses with ardor. The ever-present cynic in his brain smirked inwardly—"greasy git" they had called him... if they could see him now! With this remarkable woman eagerly twining her fingers through his lank black locks as if she could bind her to him by his hair alone.

But he didn't allow their kisses to linger or become desperate. A few minutes of bliss only, and then he pulled back from her, tenderly rubbing her own small nose with his much larger one. When she looked at him, she had successfully used her Occlumency to suppress the visible evidence of her affections, thankfully.

"You should not open your eyes from sleep without raising your Occlumency, Rowena," he teased, kissing her gently to remove any real sting from his words.

She raised a brow archly and brought up a hand to gently stroke his cheek, "Severus, I have no secrets from you, not really. I just think that "Rowena infatuation" is probably best dealt with in small doses, don't you?"

He had to admit to himself that in some things, she did seem to know him quite well.

"I think you are correct in that," he said wryly. He kissed her once more and then sat up at the edge of the bed, "We need to get ready to leave. I must shower and change, at the very least. We will walk to Hogsmeade and Apparate to the Malfoys. I don't like giving them access to the carriage or other means of transport that can be tampered with more often than absolutely necessary."

"Okay. I'll be ready. I'm sorry to sound backward or obsessed with fashion, but I haven't done this sort of thing much. How dressy am I supposed to be? Are we actually dining at their home?"

He sighed and stood, waved his closet doors open, which revealed an amazing array of... black robes. Not one of them had any touch of real color. The only color visible in all the cabinet was the Slytherin green of his scarf and the Crest of Slytherin house on his professor's robes.

"Yes, we will have our meal at their home. I will again be giving you the general poison antidote. I would like to think it's unnecessary, but I don't wish to take chances. You will meet Draco; he's every bit as bigoted as Lucius, without the veneer of social graces. Dress robes are fine, or a casual dress—is there such a thing? I know little of female fashions. Less formal than a date to the theater, but more formal than a school feast, does that help?"

She grinned and nodded towards his closet. "Yes, I think I know just the thing. Now I know why you only own and wear black—it saves you from having to decide what to wear for any given occasion. That's cheating!"

"Indeed. We need to leave in thirty minutes. Perhaps you don't require as much time as the average female, but I doubt you can spare time dawdling and dissecting my wardrobe."

She laughed and stood as well, standing on tip-toe to kiss him briefly, and then turned to leave. He called after her, "I will come to your quarters for you."

"All right. See you soon then," she called with a radiant smile as she left.

Fool girl! Acting like she was going on holiday. There was much potential for unpleasantness tonight. More complications! This charade added to her danger and his urge to protect her. Perhaps Brother Lupin had a point... she was pissed as hell at him for 20 years, but at least she stayed away... and in Severus's own case, pissed off and away would definitely be safer for her.

He was too selfish to give the thought any more consideration than that. He shoved it aside as he got into the shower.

* * *

Prompt, to the second as always, Severus was at her door precisely thirty minutes after she had left. She was in dark red, satin dress robes. Her hair she had pulled off her face with a glittery golden barrette at the back of her head, the soft ringlets that she preferred cascading down her back in loose flowing curls.

The look suited her, leaving the clear complexion of her heart-shaped face completely unobscured. The robes were feminine and elegant, and the color enriched her normally rather "monotone" complexion. However, Severus didn't much care for the color, even though she looked quite pretty... it was too much like blood. But he said nothing. It was a strong color and gave a strong impression... The appearance of strength was always a benefit when dealing with the Malfoys.

He gave her a small smile of approval as she took his arm. The evening was warm and clear. The late summer sun was still brushing against the mountains, giving a soft golden light, so that the walk would not be at all unpleasant.

"I was thinking, as I was getting ready, that there are a lot of things I still don't really know about you," she said, surprisingly, as they began walking towards Hogsmeade.

He frowned at her, suddenly feeling a very uncomfortable sensation in his chest, and said very seriously, "Indeed. I believe I have been trying to warn you of that these last several weeks."

She laughed lightly and shook her head, "No, I don't mean that. I think I know the core of who you are better than you do. I mean the little things. Like, what's your favorite color, how do you like your coffee, what's your favorite Quidditch team, what makes you laugh... you know, that sort of stuff."

He looked at her incredulously, and then shrugged, "My favorite color is green, though I never wear anything but black, as you have seen. I don't care for coffee, though if I can't get tea I will drink coffee with cream. I never use sugar in either. I laugh when I can catch Potter at his antics and put him in detention." He actually grinned at this, and her light, answering laugh gave him an odd lurching sensation in his stomach.

He continued, "I like the Falmouth Falcons, though my favorite Quidditch team is Slytherin, of course," and now he was grinning openly, and she laughed again. He could not remember ever smiling so much in his life, but it felt surprisingly pleasant.

This was still very new and strange to him, but his emotional inventory of this afternoon had left him with the decision that he was just going to go along, whatever might happen. Though perhaps, in after thought, it wouldn't hurt to watch for white rabbits!

"And you, Miss Lupin? How would you answer your questions?" he teased, though with a very serious expression.

She was smiling radiantly, almost hugging his arm to her, as she had joined her hands around his arm as they walked. "Well, my favorite color is yellow, but I can't ever wear it because it washes me out, you know, my mousy coloring. I've always liked it, though—it seems so bright and cheerful to me. I don't drink coffee, either, ever. I can't stand it. Lots of things make me laugh, I'm pretty easy going as far as that goes. And you will have to forgive me if my favorite Quidditch team is Ravenclaw... that was my own house, you know."

"Ah, yes, but if I recall correctly, Ravenclaw never defeated Slytherin while we were in school together, so that makes Slytherin the superior does it not?" he asked smiling at her again.

"Why, Professor Snape, you are quite the rogue to point that out! Very tactless," she chided him, almost giggling, "It leads me to retaliate and remind you that while Ravenclaw never defeated Slytherin; there was only one time that Slytherin defeated your arch rival house of Gryffindor. And I believe there was some tampering afoot there," she said teasingly.

He chuckled softly, "A rogue, now, am I? That is surely the least insulting... epithet I have ever received. And why, Miss Lupin, would you believe there to have been tampering involved in that game? No one was ever able to determine why it was that Potter's broom suddenly became frictionless. It must have been a defect in the manufacturing of the broom, I am sure."

"Oh, you might fool others... but I saw you. Everyone else was watching the game—I was watching _you_. In fact, it was that incident that taught me about Dark Wands. Talking to the girls from your house, trying to figure out how you did it without being caught. It was really brilliant."

He sighed, and shook his head, though he was still smiling softly at her, "Rowena, every other female in the school would have been scandalized at anything happening to Potter. You truly were a sick little girl, do you know that? Perhaps what you need is not to spend time with me, but to seek out a muggle psychologist."

She laughed again and squeezed his arm, "I'm not mentally unbalanced, Severus. I just happen to like seeing people get what they deserve."

"Indeed. And how is it with that vindictive and blood thirsty attitude, and your single-minded drive to get what you set your mind upon, that you were not placed in Slytherin House?" he asked, genuinely curious. As a teacher, he knew that the Sorting Hat often offered two choices.

She shrugged, "Well, the Sorting Hat did mention Slytherin, but it said that being a half-blood would make things hard for me there. I was already scared enough without willingly choosing a house that would automatically view me as inferior. Besides, after you said on the train that I was 'destined' for Ravenclaw, it just seemed the place for me to go."

He smirked then and said, "Would you be surprised to know that at my sorting, the Hat tried to convince me to choose Ravenclaw? I was already determined to be in Slytherin."

"No, that doesn't surprise me," she said softly.

A dark, brooding frown shadowed his features. He reached across and laid his free hand over her hands on his arm and squeezed them gently. "Interesting paths our choices take us on, don't you think?"

She nodded her agreement, but by now they had reached Hogsmeade.

* * *

"I don't wish you to arrive alone at the Malfoys, even though you know where they live well enough to Apparate there on your own," he said, suddenly brusque and business-like. He pulled two small phials out of his robes and handed one to her, "Drink this, the antidote I mentioned, and then allow me to transport us."

"All right. Cheers," she said as they both drank the small potion. She made a face and returned the phial to him, "If you truly enjoyed research, Master Snape, you would find a way to make the damn thing taste better!"

"Nonsense. I live for other people's misery, didn't you know? Let's go," he said with a smirk, holding his hand out to her. When she had placed her hand in his, he instantly Apparated them away.

They arrived outside the gates to the Malfoy Manor, and strode up the path through the fine, well-manicured front garden. The last time she had been here, only a little more than two weeks ago, she had been so excited and nervous that she hadn't paid much attention to her surroundings. She had been too absorbed with her own inner turmoil. Now, she felt the need to be more on her guard, and was also less nervous around Severus, and so she observed.

The house was huge and stately. Tall white columns at the front of the house decorated a wrap-around porch of sorts, though it was really too elegant to be called a 'porch'. Maybe a 'veranda' would be more suitable. The huge pillars then supported the second floor of the veranda, which was a balcony that also appeared to wrap around at least two sides of the home. From where she could see, it seemed that many of the upstairs rooms opened onto the balcony through French doors similar to the ones that had exited the Ballroom the night she had been here for the Fete.

They had only just stepped up to the huge oaken front doors when they swung open at once of their own accord. Lucius Malfoy could be seen striding up the hall towards them. The white marble floor of the hallway gleamed brightly, polished as it was to an almost mirror finish. Malfoy's expensive, highly polished dragon-hide boots made soft "click click click" sounds as he walked towards them, his 'social smile' already firmly in place.

"Severus, prompt as always old friend." He grabbed Severus's hand in a handshake that had all the appearance of friendly warmth. He then turned to Rowena with a very formal, but very slight bow, "Rowena, how very pleasant to welcome you to our home yet again, I thank you for coming. We have received the official notice of your class offering in the post. I know Draco had some questions, as he is planning to enroll. Please, come in."

She couldn't help but wonder, in all this grandeur, why Lucius answered the door himself. But then she realized that it must be hard to have truly loyal servants that could be trusted implicitly when one is a Death Eater; and she didn't see the Malfoys as the sort who would like the impression given when a house elf answered the door! They might be highly efficient cleaning and cooking staff, but they did not make for impressive butlers.

Malfoy led the way down the long marble hallway. Numerous ornately framed family portraits and wizarding landscape paintings hung on the walls, well lit by elegant wall sconces. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere, and even in the dying light of the setting sun every surface gleamed brilliantly.

They passed the ballroom on their left. On the night of the Fete, Rowena had had the impression that the room was the primary room of the ground floor, completely surrounded by French doors leading out into the gardens. Now, she could see that in fact only the south and west walls had the exterior doors. The east wall was floor to ceiling in one smooth, perfect mirror. This gave the visual impression of the room being double its actual size and number of guests when full. Currently, of course, it was empty. But its golden wood floor was unmarred by any scuff marks, even though dozens of people had danced here a few weeks ago.

Just beyond this ballroom, Lucius led them into a cozy parlor. It was elegantly furnished, but somehow it was decorated in a style to convey it's great expense while being inviting rather than intimidating. Narcissa was seated within, as was a young man who could only be Lucius's son.

Draco rose from his seat fluidly when they entered the room, and crossed over to them immediately, standing at polite and very formal attention next to Lucius. The boy had the identical ice-gray eyes and white-blonde hair of his father, though he wore his very short. His face was ivory pale, though he still had the pink flush and fullness of youth so that he did not look unhealthy in his pallor.

"Rowena, this is my son, Draco. He is entering his sixth year at Hogwarts. We have been quite proud of his progress over all. He is planning to enroll in your class, as I mentioned," he said, introducing them with perfect etiquette, "Draco, this is Professor Lupin. She will be teaching the Magical Theory and Research class. She is also a particular friend of Professor Snape's."

Draco's eyes had been drawn to her as soon as she entered the room, and had raked over her thoroughly, assessing her critically. She thought she could detect a slight tightening of his face, as though we would have liked to offer her a sneer. However, at this introduction, Draco bowed very formally. His drawling voice still had its usual air of sarcasm, though it was better concealed now than was normal as he practiced his 'polite tones' for her, "Professor Lupin, I am glad to meet you. I hope you will allow me to ask you questions about your class over dinner."

Rowena had to try very hard not to smirk at all this stiff and phony formality and politeness. She noticed that Draco did not try to shake her hand, and that Narcissa was watching the exchange with an intense interest that might almost be called nervous. Rowena instead offered a friendlier version of her own 'polite smile' than she might have normally done. "I am pleased to meet you as well, Draco. I would be glad to answer any questions you might have."

Draco nodded again and then smiled more genuinely, though with an ingratiating quality, to Severus, "Hello, Professor Snape. I passed my O.W.L.s with a high enough score to qualify for your advanced potions class, so I will be enrolled there."

Severus nodded slightly, "I was already aware of this, Draco. Congratulations. I must be the bearer of bad tidings, though, and tell you that somehow Potter managed also to qualify, and will also be in the class."

Draco and Rowena both frowned at this, though for different reasons. Rowena thought it was quite unprofessional and unfair of Severus to talk of one of his students in a negative fashion with another. Draco was merely annoyed at the thought of having to still be in class with Potter.

Narcissa spoke then, from her elegant seat by the fireplace, before the subject could be discussed more fully, "Do come in and make yourselves comfortable, Severus, Rowena."

Lucius gave a slight nod and gestured with his arm towards the elegant Queen Anne chairs that surrounded a matching coffee table. He himself moved to a large, well-stocked bar against the wall near the window. "May I offer you a drink before dinner?"

"Brandy," Severus said curtly. His veneer of "friendliness" towards Lucius obviously did not make him feel that he had to actually BE friendly!

"And you, Rowena?" Lucius asked as he poured a measure of the amber liquid into a crystal snifter, carefully covering the top with an elegant cloth napkin.

"White wine, please, Lucius," she said, taking the seat near Narcissa that seemed to be expected of her. Draco then sat in the chair on the other side so that she was effectively surrounded by Malfoys and cut off from Severus. He sat on the opposite side of the hearth and observed them all with an expression of thinly concealed boredom. His glittering black eyes, though, met hers with an intensity that told her he was quite on his guard.

"So, Professor Lupin... are you a relation to the other Professor Lupin that we had three years ago?" Draco asked as Lucius provided the requested drinks. Draco's eyes bored into hers intently, though she could detect no Legilimency skill in him. She rather thought it was merely a trained response, meant to intimidate.

"Yes, Draco. Remus Lupin is my brother," she said, unflinchingly.

Draco did not attempt to conceal his "surprise", though Rowena was certain his parents must have told him of this before. "Really? But... He had to quit teaching because of his... well, if you are his sister you surely know he's a werewolf!"

"That he is, Draco, but I am not. My brother's condition has no affect on my teaching abilities. I can also assure you that I am not nearly as soft-hearted as my brother. I would easily guess that he forgave infractions in his classes that should have been dealt with. I will not have that same weakness," Rowena said, meeting Draco's challenging gaze with a stern one of her own.

Surprisingly, to her at least, Draco smiled at this, "I see. I'm glad to hear it. It's so hard to focus on what we are supposed to be learning when the Professor allows disruptive students to bother the rest of us."

Rowena was in no way fooled into thinking that Draco was so diligent a student as he obviously wished to imply. She smiled guilelessly at him and said, "I have a further advantage over several of the Professors at Hogwarts... I am not Head of any House, obviously, and have been away from school for so long that I really have no particular ties to any of them. I was a Ravenclaw in my days there, but even then I had no strong loyalties. You will not find me, Draco, showing ANY favoritism to ANY students, for ANY reason."

Draco's smile tightened ever so slightly, but did not fade from his face entirely. "I'm glad to hear it, Professor."

Narcissa then deftly led the conversation towards the actual types of things that might be covered in the class, with Draco at least feigning interest in the answers. Severus and Lucius conversed in low tones on the far side of the room. It would be more accurate to say that Lucius offered conversation to which Severus occasionally deigned to respond. When a small bell chimed, Lucius led them all to an elegant formal dining room.

The room was huge, and easily dwarfed the ornate oak dining table that was currently round and only slightly larger than five people would need to be seated comfortably. Rowena suspected that the table was magical, like many that could be found in the wealthier wizarding homes. No doubt with a wave of the wand and the proper words, the table could be expanded to seat dozens, which would be more appropriate for the size of the room.

The six chandeliers were identical, masterpieces of wrought gold and crystal that lit the room with light that was simultaneously gentle and yet bright. The golden light added richness to the white-fair skin of the Malfoys, though it deepened the impression of sallowness in Severus's face, and diminished the flattering effect of Rowena's blood-red dress robes. Undoubtedly this was all by design. The Malfoys were of a sort to always want to appear to their best advantage; if they could do that while decreasing the advantages of others, so much the better.

The meal was superbly prepared roast duck served magically onto fine china. Narcissa enjoyed discussing the china and chandeliers at Rowena's inquiries. "Well, the china has been in the Malfoy family for ten generations. The chandeliers were a wedding gift from Lucius's father. They were hand crafted in Rome, you know, and are completely unique. Our parents were so pleased that our match went off so well. Sometimes these things can be unpleasant, you know. But Lucius and I have been perfectly compatible from the start, haven't we, darling?"

Lucius smiled at her with the air of warmth, "Of course, beloved," he said, easily. Rowena found herself sickened with the false display.

"Severus," Narcissa addressed him over their desserts of chocolate mousse, "Darling, we have had such a time lately getting that wonderful potion you made for us. You know the one that I mean? My energy has been so flagging without it! Rowena, dear, you _must_ get him to make it for you, and then send some to me, won't you? It's quite rejuvenating."

Rowena had to use all her strength of will to continue to swallow normally, the bite of chocolate mousse suddenly leaden and unappetizing in her mouth. Her stomach clenched nauseatingly and a swirling vision of the angelic face of Katrina came at once to mind. She knew what potion Narcissa was complaining about!

But she had to put her spoon down and hide behind the pretense of wiping her face with her napkin at Severus's next words, "Rowena doesn't need or want the potion, Narcissa. But I have brought it for you. You can stop whining to your friends and... superiors... about it."

Narcissa smiled radiantly at him, "Oh, Severus, darling. You are such a dear! I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"Apparently." He reached into his robes and took out a fairly large wrapped bundle that could be heard clinking softly, and handed it to her across the table. "I won't be supplying all of the wizarding world, so don't be passing that out like biscuits."

Narcissa unwrapped the cloth gently, and Rowena caught a brief glimpse of a large number of small glass phials, each containing some dark red liquid. Her heart was thudding in her ears as the horrified realization washed over her. He had somehow made that potion. What had he used for blood? She knew he wouldn't have used Katrina's, nor did she believe he would have used blood from any other child. But, by the color of the liquid, she guessed that he HAD used blood of some sort, rather than replace the blood component entirely.

"Have you met Harry Potter, Professor?" Draco's drawling question thankfully pulled her out of her horrified reverie, forcibly drawing her attentions back towards the present.

"Yes, I met him very briefly at the beginning of the summer." She knew not to tell him of the conditions of their meeting. What 'side' were the Malfoys supposed to believe her to be on? This was getting more confusing all the time.

Draco didn't attempt to hide his sneer now. "He's quite popular with all the teachers. I hope you were sincere when you said you didn't believe in favoritism. It's disgusting how many things he gets away with! None of the teachers--well, none except Professor Snape here—make any effort to keep him under control."

A slight smile played across Rowena's lips as she looked at Draco. Already he was trying to plant seeds of animosity. "I will keep that in mind, Draco," she said dryly. He frowned at her slightly but then nodded.

"Rowena, dear, would you like a tour of the house? You didn't see anything but the ballroom the last time you were here. I'd love to show you around. Would you like to see the room where Severus stayed during the summer holidays when he was at school?" Narcissa asked, deftly turning the conversation away from Harry Potter and her son's dislike of the boy. Rowena caught a slight frown pass from mother to son, and Draco had the grace to appear chastised.

She glanced briefly at Severus, but his expression was implacable. Rowena hadn't known he had been that intimate with the Malfoys for that long. It hadn't occurred to her to ask where he had lived when he told her he never returned home after he left for Hogwarts. Surely an 11-year-old boy needed someplace to live during the holidays.

She smiled at Narcissa and nodded. "I would be very interested in seeing the house, Narcissa. I've never been in one this large."

The elegant blonde woman smiled indulgently. "Come then, dear. We'll leave the boys to talk on their own. They probably want to discuss Quidditch or the market on Dragon Wings or something equally dull."

Narcissa carried the black bundle of glass phials as though it were as delicate and precious as a newborn baby, and led the way out of the room and up an ornate sweeping marble staircase. A negligent wave of her hand caused passing doors to swing open. There were at least ten bedrooms, each decorated in a different style and color, but each extravagant in its own way. They had huge four-poster beds, silk bed linens, and the French doors that led out to balconies overlooking an exquisite formal garden below.

Rowena politely and obediently stepped into each room and looked at the various objects of interest as Narcissa pointed them out. One room particularly caught her attention; by it's noticeable "ordinariness" in comparison to the others. It was still spacious and expensively furnished. But there was nothing of show or ostentation, nothing extravagant or particularly decorative in this room. It was done in muted gray-green tones as opposed to the bright opulence of the vivid colors of the other rooms.

"This room was Severus's when he stayed here with Lucius and his family. That started before we were married, of course, when Lucius's parents were still alive and lived here. Severus was five years behind Lucius, three years behind me, in school. The last few years he lived here, we were married. He's always been welcome here. He came to us after he finished school, for a while. We still call it "Severus's room". We're quite fond of him."

Narcissa stood in the doorway of the room, watching Rowena intently with a smug smile on her face.

"It's nice to know that Severus had such friends to help him in his time of need," Rowena said softly, and very sincerely. It led her to marvel anew at how he had managed to find his way "out" when he had been so deeply "in" with the Death Eaters and their ilk.

"Yes, he was greatly in need in those days. The Malfoys always look out for their friends, Rowena. A favor which is always returned."

There was something rather sinister in the way that this was spoken, and Rowena did not miss the implied threat. Narcissa, at least, seemed to suspect that Severus's loyalties might be weakening. Rowena merely nodded and said, "I'm sure Severus is aware of his debt to you."

A satisfied smile spread over Narcissa's face as she nodded, stopping in the largest and grandest of the bedrooms and carefully depositing her precious bundle of phials in a small cabinet and sealing it with her wand. "Oh, yes, Rowena. I'm certain that he is."

There seemed to be nothing more to say to this, and they finished the tour by looking through several enormous bathrooms and then returned to the gentlemen.

* * *

When Narcissa and Rowena left the dining room, Lucius led Severus and Draco back to the parlor and again served drinks, though Draco was only allowed butterbeer.

"I thank you for the potion, Severus. Narcissa was becoming quite unbearable. It was very ingenious to take custody of the child yourself for the creation. No one would suspect you of doing such a thing.

"I think I need to know where things stand with your strumpet." He continued in brusque and serious tones, "She's been with you often enough now that I'm getting concerned."

Severus raised an eyebrow at Lucius as he accepted the brandy snifter. "Concerned, Lucius? I am merely following orders. What concerns you?"

Lucius gave a cold, tight smile and sat near Severus. Draco was observing the conversation with interest. "It is obvious that the girl is enamored of you. What does she believe of you? And then, more importantly to ME, what does she believe of US?"

Severus leaned back in his chair and answered with an air of complete indifference, "Ah, yes. One must maintain the Malfoy image at all costs, right Lucius? Let me put your concerns to rest. Rowena fears you to no small degree—she has heard the normal rumors regarding your possible Death Eater ties and Ministry bribery. However, she believes me to be wholly 'reformed'.

"Therefore when I told her that we had been long-time allies and that I believed you to be as innocent as Fudge keeps insisting... well, she chooses to believe me rather than the rumors. Though it would help your cause if Narcissa wouldn't be so indiscrete as when she inquired after the potion. I doubt Rowena knows what was being discussed or the implications of it, but it would be inconvenient if she found out."

Lucius frowned slightly at this and nodded, "Of course. I'll have a word with Narcissa."

Severus sipped lazily at his brandy then continued, "She still thinks you are rather arrogant and 'crooked' as far as your willingness to throw money at a problem or buy the opinions of powerful officials, but no more so than any other rich, pureblood family. She has been acquainted rather closely with Narcissa for some number of years. Most of her opinion is formulated from that interaction. Does that suffice, Lucius?"

The cold smile had broadened as Severus spoke, and the gray eyes glittered malevolently. "Oh, yes. That suits just fine, Severus. We will have to make sure that dear little Rowena thinks that we are her allies as well. It can't hurt your cause in the least.

"Do you hear that, Draco? You treat this Professor with the utmost respect, and you do what is needed to ensure that your fellow students do as well."

"Yes, father, "Draco said obediently, but with an equally cold and calculating smile on his face.

They then changed the topic of discussion to the break out of the Death Eater who was even now in St. Mungos. Severus was to use his 'cover' of visiting the orphans with Rowena as an excuse to find where she was being held and aid in her escape. At no time did Lucius think to question why this Death Eater had been rescued from death when so many others had been left to die. Severus eventually brought up the suspicion himself, just to get it out on the table, so to speak.

"I find it odd that the Ministry is willing to save this woman's life when they haven't done the same for any others," he said, suspiciously.

Lucius merely laughed and mimed shaking a large bag of money, "Ah, my friend, you forget the lure of gold. They are always so squeamish about women dying anyway. It doesn't take much of a bribe to get her a bit of medical care. She's to be well guarded of course, and the plan is to return her to her cell when she has recovered. Without the Dementors there anymore, that's not nearly the cruelty that it once was."

Severus nodded, allowing himself to appear convinced, and satisfied that at least that particular argument wouldn't rouse suspicions in other quarters, or if it did, that Lucius could wave them away with ease. He still wished he hadn't known that it would be Tonks he would be removing from that hospital. He had wondered why Albus was so keen to get him to suggest and aid in the rescue of a Death Eater, but now it was all too clear.

The women returned then, and Severus stood, grateful for the interruption. Rather than allowing Rowena to be seated, he approached her, maintaining his cool and distant formality. "I believe we should return to Hogwarts, Rowena. It is getting late."

Rowena assented, and amidst the usual formal and polite salutations, they took their leave. Severus offered his arm, which she took, and as soon as they were outside of the home's antiapparition shields, he Apparated them to Hogsmeade.

"What did you use to make Narcissa's potion?" Rowena asked immediately upon reaching the relative safety of the Hogwarts grounds. She felt the muscles of his arm tighten under her hand as she asked the question.

"That is none of your concern, I will not tell you, and I do not want to be asked that question again," he said, angrily.

"I only wondered...."

"You wondered if I had vials of the blood of children in my potions stores?" He interrupted acidly.

"NO! Severus, of course not. I was just curious, that's all. That's what you were up all night making, wasn't it?"

He sighed, but softened his tone a bit, "Rowena. This is not the time for discussion. Meeting with the Malfoys in any setting wears on me. I am exhausted and I have a lot on my mind. Please don't needle me with questions right now."

This was so aggravating! She was full of questions that only he could answer! Yet she had more understanding of him now than she did before. Lucius Malfoy had been his friend... or whatever it is that Death Eaters have as friends. There was no question that the older man had helped him in some of his darkest hours.

Of course, Lucius was probably right in there leading him to become a Death Eater in the first place. But still, it was natural that Severus should feel a sense of debt and loyalty to him, even now. The conflict of interest that surely arose from that had to be great.

She wanted to know more about his relationship with the Malfoys now that she had a glimpse into the unknowns of his past. She wanted to know what was going to happen with the "rescue" of Tonks as the Death Eater in disguise. She wanted to know the questions he refused to answer about the potion.

She walked with him in silence for long moments, and at last asked, "Can you at least tell me what the Malfoys think I think? This is getting so confusing! Do they know that I think they are Death Eaters, or at least Death Eater supporters? It makes it hard to know how to behave around them."

He looked over at her, his face dark and scowling, but he tightened his arm briefly against his side, squeezing her hand slightly in the process. It was a brief but much-welcomed gesture of comfort in the midst of the turmoil, and his face softened slightly. "Of course, Rowena. I should have discussed that with you more fully before..."

And he went on to tell her what he had told Lucius. She seemed satisfied with the answer, and did not 'needle' him with any other questions.

He escorted her to her quarters and followed her inside, though he stood just within the door, and pulled her into his arms. For long moments he merely held her, resting his cheek against the silk of her hair.

"Term starts on Sunday, Rowena. I have much to do between now and then. I will be unable to accompany you to St. Mungos on Wednesday, but I must accompany you on Saturday. I doubt I will see you before then."

She hugged him a little tighter and nodded against his chest. "Is there anything I can do to help? Potions isn't my strong suit, but my lessons are done and I can chop and weigh ingredients with the best of them."

He shook his head. "Not these potions, Rowena. No more questions." And then to ensure that she did NOT ask any more questions, he tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed her.

She knew full well he was trying to shut her up, but it was a delicious method of doing so, and she clung to him, relishing the fire that sprang up within her as his tongue slid along hers, stroking and tasting. She could feel him tangling his hands in her hair, as his arms tightened on her, pressing her closer to him.

He stopped abruptly and stepped away, though his fathomless black eyes were stormy and his breathing as ragged as hers. "Saturday, Rowena," he said huskily, kissed her fleetingly once more, and then was gone in an instant, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Next chapter won't be much of Rowena and Severus... we will be busy with Severus, Tonks, and Death Eater business. Then we will start the term, I promise!

I have only just now, this month, acquired a "Beta Reader". No doubt you will be unsurprised to find that I have been trying to edit my own stuff. I apologize profusely for the numerous typos that made it through to actual posting, and will be going back to fix those as well as polish the story overall as soon as I have the corrections, critiques and recommendations from my Beta. However, you have all been so nice as to claim to want to read my story, that I have posted this chapter now anyway, as yet un-Beta'ed.

Please feel free to send me your honest suggestions, opinions, and criticisms.

Next chapter soon.

Lisa


	15. Chapter 15: Snakes, Spies, and Werewolv...

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
Tonks goes undercover.  
  
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Chapter 15: Snakes, Spies, and Werewolves  
  
Early Monday morning found Rowena once again attempting to bury herself in her research. The large table was scattered with rolls and rolls of parchment, all covered in mathematical equations, symbols, and diagrams. Rowena's slim form was hunched over the desk scribbling madly, crossing out angrily, and then scratching some more. She had been annoyed to find that Severus seemed to have placed a silencing charm over their adjoining door so that no sound came to her from his lab, or perhaps he was already gone. Beethoven played softly in the background. The music and the scratching of her quill were the only sounds in the dungeon.  
  
A sharp rap on her door startled her out of her deep concentration. She looked up to see her brother. Remus stood in the doorway, pale and wan, the faint lines on his face horribly pronounced, his eyes blood-shot as though he hadn't slept since she had seen him yesterday... which he probably hadn't.  
  
She had a pretty good idea what this was about. She stifled a sigh of irritation and laid her quill aside. "Why don't you come sit down, brother? You look like hell."  
  
He walked into the room with the air of a lost soul, almost stumbling his way to the four-legged stool opposite the one she was sitting on, and then placing his elbows on the work bench, his face into his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was a harsh croak, "She told you what she's doing?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Support her. Let her go without guilting her or holding her back. She's an Auror, Remus. She's not a child."  
  
His tortured face looked appealingly to her, begging her to tell him what he wanted to hear. "I've lost too many people in my life, Rowena. I can't lose her. I've only just found her! She doesn't care that I'm a werewolf! How can she do this?"  
  
Rowena sighed and walked around the table to stand behind him, and gently rubbed his back and shoulders. "Remus, you don't know that you're going to lose her. It's dangerous, sure, but she's an Auror. She has to do this because she can—we all have to do whatever we can right now. Remus... honestly... you've got to stop trying to protect everyone you care about. It's stifling. Mom and Dad did it to us because they didn't know what else to do at the time. But it's not healthy, it's not normal. Be proud of her strength and her ability, support her. Let her do what she needs to do. Don't smother her. You'll never keep her that way."  
  
Remus just leaned his head silently into his hands, his whole body rigid with tension under her gentle massage. He shook his head slightly, "It's too soon after Sirius, Rowena. James and Lily, dead, Peter worse than dead, now Sirius dead... what if she dies, too?"  
  
Rowena sighed and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his back, and simply hugging him, offering him what she could of her support. "I can't tell you she'll be safe, Remus. None of us are safe right now. You've got to find a way to live with your fear for her and your grief over lost friends and keep going. You're Gryffindor, remember? You've got that bravery thing going for you. Just think how much sweeter the happiness will be when this is all over, when all this fear is a bad memory, and we can live the 'happily ever after' with the people we care about, right?"  
  
He released a great, shuddering sigh and turned around, hugging her back and nodding against her head. "You're going through the same thing right now, aren't you, Rowena? I'm sorry... it was selfish of me to come here... Snape's doing the same sort of thing. I suppose it leaves you worried a lot, too?"  
  
With a wry smile she stepped away and conjured tea for them, bringing her stool around so she could sit closer to him as she poured the tea. "Worried? Me? Why should I worry? He vanishes at a moment's notice at the call of the burn on his arm, and returns via Portkey to the hospital wing, savagely beaten. And he, Dumbledore, and Poppy treat that as though it's a normal occurrence. What do I possibly have to worry about?"  
  
Remus paled further and shook his head again. "Tonks knows all that... yet that's what she's going in to! She told me that she'll have an easier time of it because she's supposedly been in Azkaban for so long... they'll expect her to be forgetful and half mad, as well as physically weak. Plus, supposedly the fact that she was IN Azkaban to begin with will add to her favor with him."  
  
Rowena stopped him. "Remus... don't tell me any more, okay?"  
  
He looked at her in surprise and she shrugged. "Call me paranoid or melodramatic, but you-know-who knows about me. Severus is supposed to be "working" me for information and whatnot. But I am sort of afraid that the time might come when one of his other Death Eaters or someone will try to get information from me, maybe to test Severus's loyalty or something. I'd rather not know too much... you know what I mean? It's why I haven't asked to join your Order or any of that. My Occlumency's not that great. This way I can't tell what I don't know, right?"  
  
"Bloody hell!" Remus stood so quickly that the stool he had been sitting on fell over with a loud crash, and he paced agitatedly about the room. "Rowena, this is enough! Honestly... Tonks has to do what she's doing, and I have to learn to accept that. But there is no reason for you to be getting so mixed up in all this! She's an Auror, you're not. You've got to get away from here. You could research anywhere! Go to America for a while, their magical community is always looking for new theories and all that."  
  
Now it was her turn to sigh and bury her face in her hands. Would he never learn? Her voice rang out like the crack of a whip, "Remus Jonathan Lupin, shut up!"  
  
And surprisingly, he did, stopping mid-stride to stare at her in silence.  
  
"Remus, I'm not going to start this argument with you again. You are hurting and upset and not thinking clearly. You can't protect Tonks by smothering her and holding her to you. You can't protect me by pushing me away. You're a really great guy, Remus, with a good heart. But you can't be everyone's Knight Protector. Life is full of risks, especially now. We have to live each day, one day at a time, and find what enjoyment we can in the moment."  
  
His hurt and anger gradually gave way to a slow look of dawning comprehension, as though somehow he had finally connected the dots to a complex puzzle.  
  
"Like that old phrase about 'better to have loved and lost' or something like that, isn't it?" he said, bemusedly, "Or 'live each day to the fullest'?"  
  
She smiled softly at him, "Yes, exactly like that. I wouldn't trade what I've had this summer with Severus for anything, even if he died tomorrow and I could have been spared the grief of his loss by not knowing him so well. And certainly not for some intangible thing like my 'safety'."  
  
Remus actually offered her a faint smile at this, hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. "Love suits you, Rowena."  
  
She sputtered angrily and pushed him away, "I am most certainly not in love, Remus! Don't be ridiculous."  
  
He grinned wider and shook his head, "Okay, call it what you want. Even when you're angry you're glowing. Looks like love from where I'm standing. But what do I know? I think I'd better leave and go spend some time with Tonks before she has to go..."  
  
He hugged her again and actually managed a chuckle at the mutinous look on her face before he strode briskly from the room.  
  
"I am NOT in love with Severus!" She said, vehemently to the empty room. She wondered vaguely whom she was trying to convince, or why the thought of being in love with Severus upset her so much... but she squashed the ruminations vigorously and returned to her equations.  
  
`````````````````````````````````````  
  
He locked and sealed his dungeon lab behind him before setting off up the hall to speak with Albus, a large, heavy satchel over one shoulder. But when he turned from his door, he came face to face with Remus, obviously just leaving Rowena's lab. With an internal sigh and an external sneer, Snape's baritone voice greeted him, "Lupin. What a surprise. Have you convinced her to run away from the evil Potions Master yet?"  
  
To his very great surprise, Remus smiled faintly and shook his head, "Nope. It looks like you're stuck with her. I actually came to talk to her about Tonks." His smile faded and he looked into the darker man's face with grave sincerity, "Watch out for her, Severus, if you can. Will you?"  
  
Severus tried to rise to the challenge. Truly he did. What a perfect opportunity to cut Lupin down a piece. Who was he to presume that Severus even wanted to be 'stuck' with Rowena? Or to refer to it as being 'stuck'. And then to have the nerve to ask him for help in watching out for Tonks, as though he had any control over that issue?  
  
Instead, all he managed was a rather tired smirk, and a shake of his head. "Sorry, Lupin. You'll have to worry about your own woman. I have enough trouble with mine. And for the record, I'm against Tonks going in there. I had no part in that decision whatever, and would have opposed it vehemently if given the opportunity."  
  
"She said you weren't happy about it," Remus said with a sigh, and then he brightened, as though he had just realized what the other man had said—basically claiming Rowena as 'his' woman.  
  
Remus actually managed another, warmer smile at the thought. Snape wouldn't have made it to his 'top ten' list of 'People to date my sister'. Bloody hell, he wouldn't have made it on the list at all if the truth were known. But since the guy was the ONLY person who ever made it to her own list, he decided to be happy for her, and make the effort to be nicer to Snape. Remus strode briskly along next to him, as Snape had not slowed his pace towards Dumbledore's office.  
  
"It's hell, this, isn't it Severus? Trying to figure out women at our age?"  
  
Severus scowled darkly at him a moment. At last he snorted derisively, "Your sister may welcome your prying into her private matters. You keep out of mine, Lupin." But then, almost as an after thought, he added, wryly, "I assure you I have endured far more unpleasant things."  
  
Remus gave a small laugh, and nodded. "I suppose you have at that."  
  
Upon reaching the main floor, they parted without another word. Remus left the building in search of Tonks, and Severus went to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. He had time to muse at his own newfound tolerance for the werewolf, and laid all credit for that at Rowena's door. If not for her, he wouldn't have reason to attempt civility with the mutant.  
  
"Pumpkin Pasties." The gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside. Snape stepped onto the moving spiral staircase, amusing himself slightly with wondering how Albus maintained his good health amidst his obsession with sweets.  
  
The Headmaster was either anticipating his arrival, or just leaving himself to go elsewhere, as he was waiting at the top of the stairs when it stopped moving. "Ah, good morning, Severus. You are preparing to be gone a few days, I believe?"  
  
"As you well know." His voice was sharp, his expression scowling and irritated. He thrust the heavy satchel into the older man's hands, "Here are the antidotes and directions for their use, for all the recent potions I've made for the Dark Lord."  
  
His expression remained stoic and unreadable, yet there was almost an appealing, worried tone in his voice when he continued, "Albus, I have no idea where He intends to use them... some of those antidotes must be administered almost immediately to have any hope of working. I don't know how you'll manage when we don't even know where or when they'll be needed."  
  
Albus accepted the satchel with ease, and then warmly clasped Severus on the shoulder, "Be careful, Severus. Don't worry about the potions. You've done the best you can, and we're on our guard now. Focus on what you need to do, and return safely. Term starts in six days and we need our Potions Master."  
  
Severus snorted in disgust, nodded brusquely and turned to leave. But then he stopped. He looked back at the older wizard, his face expressionless, his fathomless black eyes piercing the bright blue of the other. Dumbledore gave a small smile and nod. "I'll look after them, Severus. Both of your girls, alright?"  
  
Snape nodded again, and left, quickly lost to sight by the descending staircase.  
  
`````````````````````````````````````````````  
  
Rowena was restless and irritable all day Monday and Tuesday. As near as she could tell, Severus was not within the castle walls. Her research could not contain her thoughts nor diminish her worry.  
  
Albus, however, quickly introduced a way to keep her mind at least partially occupied until she could hope to see Severus, when he would meet her to go to the hospital on Saturday. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor arrived Wednesday morning. From America. And Albus thought it would be a 'lovely' idea for Rowena to show him around.  
  
"I don't need to tell you, Rowena, how hard it's been for me to fill the position. This particular young man has a strong resume in Defense, and has not even the smallest hint of Dark associations. Of course, in America, they haven't had to deal with our problems with Voldemort and things, but there are Dark Wizards everywhere. It would help me out tremendously if you would show him around the place a bit when he arrives. His quarters are in the same wing as yours, and I believe you know where the DADA classroom is?"  
  
Rowena tried to smile and nodded politely. Dumbledore had done so much for her already. What could it hurt her to show the new professor around a bit? Still, her mind was so otherwise occupied that she didn't relish trying to be friendly and polite to a stranger when she was so worried. "Of course, Albus. Whatever I can do to help."  
  
He smiled brightly at her, blue eyes twinkling, and squeezed her hand warmly. "I knew I could count on you, Rowena. Let's go to Hogsmeade Station and meet the fellow then, shall we?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore had the appearance of great age, yet he walked the half- hour to Hogsmeade station with brisk energy, effortlessly. The scarlet train pulled into the station and many people moved on and off the train, though not nearly the crowds seen when students were arriving or leaving.  
  
It was all Rowena could do to suppress a groan of horror when she saw the individual that was so painfully, obviously from the "States".  
  
The man was not older than 40, though his skin was tanned to a golden, leathery brown of someone who worked in the sun. He was very broad- shouldered and muscular, at least six feet tall, though it was hard to tell because of the enormous hat he wore. Not a wizard's hat... a cowboy hat, gray with some sort of scaly-skinned animal band around the brim.  
  
He had a face that was almost too perfect in it's symmetry with perfect teeth in a blindingly white smile. His hair that could be seen from under the hat was a thick, wavy dark brown. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, a very 'western' style shirt complete with shiny mother-of-pearl snaps, a thick belt with an even thicker buckle with an engraving of a horse on it, and.... Merlin help her... cowboy boots with SPURS. Muggle clothing. Nothing about this man suggested magic. He looked as though he might be ready to go rustle cattle right out of the pages of a stereotypical cowboy story, but she doubted heavily that he could so much as hold a wand.  
  
Every head in the station turned to stare at him in open-mouthed wonder. Some with interest, some with derision, but none resisted the lure to stare. His boots tapped loudly on the wood of the platform, punctuated by the jingle of the spurs. His slightly bandy-legged walk brought him to Albus in short order, with a broad grin that seemed a permanent part of his features.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, sir. I'm right pleased to meet'cha in person at last. Howdy," he said, holding out his hand.  
  
Sweet Merlin! Had the clown actually said "Howdy"? Rowena was torn between the desire to laugh hysterically and the equally ardent desire to be violently ill. Surely he couldn't be 'for real'. His lazy drawl and careless pronunciation of his words suggested southern United States, though she was no linguist to be certain.  
  
Albus greeted him with his usual warm friendliness, though his very relaxed and casual greeting, for him, sounded almost rigid and formal in comparison to the language mutilation of the other man. "Dylan Howard. I am very grateful you have agreed to take the post. May I please introduce you to Professor Rowena Lupin? She is also teaching at the school this year, Magical Theory and Research."  
  
She was forced to hide an involuntary laugh behind a small cough at this point. The Cowboy's name was "Dylan". It was almost too much. He took off his huge hat, apparently a show of respect, ran a thick-fingered hand through his wavy hair so it wouldn't be flattened from the hat, and then held his hand out to her as well. "Professor Lupin. Real nice to meet 'cha, ma'am." He was smiling at her, his hazel eyes frankly appraising. Oh, yes. Rowena had met THIS type before.  
  
She hitched on her "bored polite" smile and took his offered hand. It was heavily callused and enormous compared to her own. "Charmed, Professor Howard," she said coolly.  
  
Bloody Hell! Severus was going to LOVE this.  
  
Dumbledore made arrangements for the man's luggage to be brought to the castle. Rowena was shocked to hear also of arrangements for boarding... no, it couldn't be... but yes... the cowboy must have his horse! In fact, the beast followed them docilely back to the castle after being unloaded from the cargo car of the train.  
  
"This here's Jake," Dylan said by way of introduction. "He's my horse, but he's also my familiar. I know its odd and all, but back home I live out on the range mostly, so a horse familiar is right handy."  
  
The animal did seem to regard them with benign intelligence as he spoke, and didn't seem to require any sort of tether or halter to follow the man.  
  
Rowena walked in silence as Albus answered the other man's questions. Apparently he'd been sent quite a large brief in regards to the running of the school, and in spite of the laziness of his drawl, he seemed to be tolerably intelligent. At last the "official" conversation began to wind down, and Dylan was at liberty to make observations of his surroundings.  
  
"I'm hopin' you won't take no offense or nothin', but you folks seem mighty old fashioned around here. I mean, back home, you can't tell wizards from muggles by lookin'. We all wear the same clothes and all. What's with the robes and hats and quills and parchment and stuff?"  
  
Albus laughed gently, while Rowena tried not to look outraged. As though she would be caught dead in the type of indiscrete, immodest things that muggle women wore... "jeans" and "pants" that leave nothing to the imagination.  
  
"Well, Dylan, I don't know if I can answer that." Dumbledore's voice was friendly, "I think the parchment is easier to create without using electricity, which doesn't work around magic. Our country is smaller, and we have a higher percentage of wizards over all, so the magic sometimes makes things go quite haywire. Same thing with the quills. Owls are everywhere, so getting a quill is quick and easy. Manufacturing the pens and paper that muggles use would require either electricity, or a great expenditure of magic. I think we just stick with what is easiest.  
  
"As far as the clothing goes, I think that is a matter of preference. I'm afraid you will find the castle and our climate much colder than your home. Wizard's robes and cloaks are much warmer than their muggle counterparts. As well as having more convenient hiding places for wands and whatnot."  
  
"Well, I ain't so sure that your old castle will be colder than the range at night in the winter. I'm sure I'll manage. I bought me some of them robes for teachin', though. No point in makin' myself stand out like a sore thumb, now, is there? I'm right lookin' forward to teachin' and all. I ain't had much doin' with kids for a long time, but I like kids well enough. All full of energy and excitement and all."  
  
They had reached the castle at last. "Jake" the horse, was allowed to simply wander the grounds freely outside the building for the present. Hagrid would be making accommodations for the animal near the castle. Albus parted with them in the Entrance Hall. "I'm very sorry, Dylan, but I must attend to some business in my office. Rowena has agreed to show you around the castle, and introduce you to the other teachers. Please make yourself at home and come and see me with any questions at any time."  
  
Rowena gestured with her hand, "If you will follow me this way, Professor Howard? I will show you your classroom, office, and quarters."  
  
He flashed her a very toothy smile and scooped his hat off his head again, this time apparently intending to carry the damn thing. "I'd be right honored, Professor Lupin, ma'am, if you'd call me Dylan. I ain't much for formality."  
  
She tried to suppress a sigh and eye-roll with a modicum of success, and nodded. "Thank you, Dylan. I am Rowena Lupin. Now, if you will follow me to the third floor, we will find your classroom, office, and quarters all on that level."  
  
"Right'cha are ma'am. Is there a Mr. Lupin? Do the professors have families who live here?" he asked, looking at her rather appraisingly once again.  
  
Oh, yes. She knew his 'type' very well. She was torn between dread and amusement at the thought of Severus's reaction to this Yankee clown when they met. "Yes, Dylan. There is a "Mr. Lupin." He is my brother. He does not live nor work here. Some of the professors who are married do have family quarters in the castle. Others live off the grounds and take it in shifts to do evening patrols and overnight duties." She used her 'bored polite' voice as she strolled along, pointing things out to him.  
  
"You must be cautious of the stairwells. Some of them contain trick stairs. In fact, there are many areas of the castle that change regularly. We unfortunately have a resident poltergeist, and so some of the changes must be blamed upon him."  
  
She took him over a very cursory tour of the main areas of the castle, refusing to allow him to draw her into more personal conversation, and coolly rebuffing all flirtation attempts... of which there were many. She also introduced him to Minerva, Filius, Poppy, Hagrid, and Argus Filch. At last she excused herself to return to her research, enormously thankful to get away from his twanging drawl and jingling spurs.  
  
````````````````````````````````````````````  
  
The building was dark and chill, in spite of the bright summer sun shining outside. It was always dark and chill—a side effect of being guarded by Dementors. This was the first time, however, that he had really noticed the draining effect of the tall hooded creatures. He had long since learned to ignore the reliving of his most horrific memories that insisted on playing in his head whenever they were near. He had relived them often enough on his own, that they were truly just a minor inconvenience.  
  
Not for the first time, he had reason to be grateful for the concealment of his own hood and mask. He felt an overwhelming sense of... loss, which he simply could not explain. He at last realized that it was something akin to sadness, an emptying of hope from him. This was the other terrible effect of the Dementors.  
  
But this horrible, draining sensation actually had a somewhat contrary effect on the silent man. By suddenly experiencing the loss of hope and happiness, he realized that he must have been genuinely experiencing those things... apparently for the first time ever in his life, or at least the first time in a very, very long time.  
  
"Welcome, friend," spoke a high, cold voice from the center of the room. A skeletally thin form sat in a tall wing-backed chair as though it was a throne and himself the king. Stepping closer, it became apparent that the being in the chair was not human, at least not wholly so. His skin was paper-white, stretched thin and taught over the skull-like head. He had no nose, but mere slits for nostrils, and glaring, glowing cat-like red eyes.  
  
"Do come forward, Severus."  
  
The cloaked and masked form in the shadows near the door did not move, yet the figure in the chair laughed mirthlessly. "Do not fear, my friend. I would not betray your identity to anyone. I know you fear there is a traitor in our midst, and I must have you at Hogwarts. We are quite alone. Now come, Severus. Bring me my potions I have commanded from you, and then tell me of your plan to free Claire Lestrange."  
  
The silent figure did step forward then, and bowed slightly. He set a large haversack on the floor near the chair, which clinked gently when set down. "Are you certain we won't be overheard here, Lord?"  
  
"Of course, of course. Now. Speak."  
  
````````````````````````````````````````````  
  
Saturday took forever to arrive. Dylan had insisted on accompanying her and Minerva to the hospital Wednesday evening, which had grated horribly on her nerves. But worse, he had sought her out for someone to "jaw with a spell"... which she finally figured out meant he just wanted someone to talk with a while... several times a day. His presence also interfered with her visits to Katrina, and she was only able to see her twice that week, each time leaving the little girl disappointed that "her Severus" hadn't come to see her.  
  
Three days of Dylan's acquaintance felt like an eternity. He was nice enough, and once she got over the prejudice of his lazy-sounding speech, she did find him reasonably well-versed on jinxes, hexes and curses. But he was simply incredibly annoying. He also seemed determined to flirt with her outrageously despite all of her cool rebuffs.  
  
She stayed in her quarters all day Saturday, packing things for the children and feeling incredibly nervous and frightened. So many things could go wrong today... and if any of them did... If Tonks was caught, if Severus was caught, the slightest mistake could cost both their lives.  
  
At one o'clock... two full hours before she dared hope to see Severus, a knock came at her door. Knowing it was Dylan, she simply called out to it. "I'm sorry. I can't speak with you today. I'm expecting someone and I have things to do this afternoon."  
  
"That's hardly the welcome I expected after nearly a week of absence. Has the rational Ravenclaw finally come to her senses?" Severus's melodic baritone filled the room as he stepped inside, an eyebrow raised archly.  
  
She stood instantly, mouth open wide in shock, her eyes flying to her face in surprise and elation. He looked terrible, and incredible. She was happy to see him there, whole and well and snarky as always, yet he looked as though he hadn't slept since she had last seen him. His hair was dirty and hung even more lankly than usual, and his pale skin was nearly transparent with fatigue.  
  
With great self-control, she resisted the urge to through herself into his arms. Frankly, he looked so tired that she was afraid such a gesture would knock him off his feet, even if it were welcomed. But she did cross the room quickly to him. Still, she felt suddenly shy, as though a week's absence made her unsure of what behavior he would find acceptable.  
  
"I didn't know it was you..."  
  
"Indeed. Has someone been bothering you in my absence?" He had meant this to be a slightly teasing comment, but the look on her face and a moment of insight caused him to continue, "Let me guess. Albus's new professor, the American has arrived? What's wrong with this one aside from abysmal abuse of the spoken word? Is he a vampire? A Yeti?"  
  
As he spoke, he reached out to her, needing to feel that she was real, that she still welcomed his touch. He caressed her face, stroking her cheek with his hand.  
  
Her chocolate brown eyes poured into his fathomless black ones as she rubbed her cheek, catlike, against his hand. Somehow she managed to shield the bulk of her emotions from him... how had Remus realized she was in love with Severus before she knew it herself? Her heart was so full of it she thought it might burst. Yet she managed to grin and roll her eyes as she answered his question. "Worse. He's a cowboy."  
  
He groaned in irritation and shook his head, "Disgusting." He pulled her close and stroked her lower lip with his thumb. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to trace the path his thumb had made, and he was lost. He tangled his hand through the silk of her hair and kissed her hungrily. She returned his kiss with abandon, reveling in the iron-hard strength of his body against hers, his arms around her.  
  
"I missed you, Severus," she said at last, speaking against his lips, not wanting to break the delicious contact.  
  
A sharp tap on the door caused them to spring apart as though electrified, and the door swung open. Rowena had gotten out of the habit of sealing her quarters all the time, upon moving to Hogwarts... a habit she realized she was going to have to resume.  
  
"Hey, Rowena, I thought maybe you'd let me take you on a little picnic with Jake this afternoon, seein' as how you've been so nice to show me around the place and all...." Dylan entered the room carrying a huge picnic basket and his hat, his ever-present smile firmly hitched onto his face, and fully attired in his 'cowboy' garb, not excluding the jangling spurs. His voice trailed off at the sight of her blushing face and the dark, angry man standing a few feet away from her.  
  
"Oh, I'm beggin' your pardon, ma'am. I didn't know you had comp'ny. I'll just check back with you later then. Um... Rowena... is everythin' alright, honey?" He trailed off, uncertainly. He clearly didn't trust the looks of the dark stranger.  
  
"Who in the bloody hell are you?" Severus demanded, his voice it's smooth silk of hidden anger. He scowled darkly at the other man. "Honey" indeed!  
  
"Severus, this is Dylan Howard." Rowena jumped in before there could be any unpleasantness. She dreaded to say the next part, knowing as she did how much Severus wanted the position, "He's from America. He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year. Dylan, this is Professor Severus Snape. He's Potions Master here."  
  
Comprehension dawned on his face, and the ubiquitous smile returned in full measure, "Howdy, Professor. I'm right pleased to meet'cha." Dylan stuck out his hand, which Severus did NOT take.  
  
"Uh, right. Well, Rowena's told me a lot about'cha. I reckon from how she talks that there ain't no potion you can't make. That's right impressive... "he began to trail off uncomfortably, his perpetual smile dimming a bit as Severus continued to scowl, dark and silent, "Uh... well... I'll, uh, talk to you later about that picnic, then Rowena, alright?"  
  
Snape stepped forward then, so that he was standing slightly in front of Rowena, and staring the 'cowboy' down. Though honestly, Dylan was several inches above Severus in height, and far more muscular. Still, the other man backed off slightly at the aggressive stance of the darker man. "Rowena will not be accompanying you on your 'picnic' today or any other. I think you had best leave."  
  
At last the cowboy had something he could understand. A challenge to surmount. He squared his shoulders and looped a thumb through his belt, a slightly defiant look dimming the smile, "Now see here, Professor. I reckon that's for Rowena to decide."  
  
But Rowena had stepped forwards and wrapped her hands around Severus's arm... partially in a gesture of support, and partly to keep him from hexing the other man, who really hadn't done anything wrong. Severus didn't look at her, but put his other hand over hers. Dylan didn't miss either gesture and looked shrewdly at Severus, as though weighing him, an almost challenging glance.  
  
"Ah. I see. Well, ain't nobody told me she had a beau. I was just tryin' to be friendly. Well. I guess I'll be seein' both of you at the openin' feast tomorrow then," and with a nod, he replaced the enormous hat on his head and left the room.  
  
Severus was silent and scowling, looking down at her where she stood still clinging to his arm. And then suddenly he grinned... a true, warm smile that completely transformed his face. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "So, Miss Lupin, ma'am, it seems you've got'cher self a beau," he drawled, in a remarkable impression of Dylan's accent.  
  
She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hmmm. So it would seem." She rubbed her nose against his and kissed him tenderly again.  
  
"Now I know you are genuinely mentally disturbed," he teased. "Only someone quite terrifyingly ill would voluntarily choose a scrawny git like me over your cowboy admirer."  
  
She laughed again, "Yes, but if you sleep with your familiar, you don't smell like a horse."  
  
Horrified, he looked at her, his brow raised in disbelief. "No. His familiar is a horse?"  
  
"Yup. I reckon you'll be meetin' old Jake real soon. He's right useful," she replied, trying with much less success to mimic the cowboy's drawl.  
  
He rolled his eyes and then pulled her with him to the couch where he sat holding her in his arms. He sighed and suddenly became serious again.  
  
"Rowena, we have to talk and there's not much time." He sighed and ran a tired hand through his lifeless hair.  
  
"Things have been very meticulously planned for this afternoon. You need do nothing but behave normally. I will escort you to the hospital as I have often done. I will leave the room for a bit part way through our visit, again as I have often done. What you must know is that when I appear to return to the room, it will not be me. It will be someone using a polyjuice potion.  
  
"It is imperative that you continue to act as though it IS me. You must be prepared to cover if my double does something out of character. And you must find believable excuse to leave before he has been there an hour. Preferably early enough that you can get back to Hogwarts before the hour is over. Do you understand?"  
  
She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her fear, "Who will be impersonating you? When will you return?"  
  
"A member of the Order. If all goes well, I will be back before the feast begins tomorrow," he said briskly. His eyes were inscrutable as always, yet they bored into hers as though he were reading her very soul.  
  
The unspoken words, the remainder of the thought, hung heavily in the air between them. There were only two options. If all went well, he would be back in time for the feast. If all did not go well, he would not be back at all. Ever.  
  
Suddenly she desperately wanted to pour her heart out to him. To tell him that she loved him. Wanted to assure him again that she believed in him, believed in his goodness. She wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him not to go, to give up his dual role and stay safely hidden in Hogwarts with her. Of course she could not ask that... no more than Remus could ask her to give Severus up, or ask Tonks not to go.  
  
Still, at least she wanted him to know that he was loved. Loved as wholly and completely as it was possible for her to love. Without reserve. Without doubts. Unconditionally.  
  
Valiantly holding back tears, she laid a hand on his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes, "Severus..."  
  
"Don't, Rowena." He interrupted her instantly, closing his own eyes as though pained, but kissed her softly to take the sting from his words. "Some things are better left unsaid. At least for the present."  
  
She didn't argue, but merely wrapped her arms tightly around him and buried her face into his chest, fighting the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her. "Be safe, Severus. Come back to me."  
  
"Indeed. I fully intend to do just that." He was surprised at how much truth there was in his words. He had never much cared before whether he lived or died in his work for the Order. His own instinct for self- preservation had served him well, of course, but he never had anything to inspire him to watch for his own personal safety. It was mostly Dumbledore's meticulous planning and the Dark Lord's arrogance that had kept him out of serious trouble this long.  
  
And yet now he had something to look forward to. Someone to welcome him back. Someone concerned for his wellbeing. It seemed to him that there were a great many things he had underestimated in the realm of relationships. He still refused to consider the possibility of "love" or the implications of it, which is why he did not want to hear her say it... though he surmised that was what she had intended to do.  
  
In contemplative silence, then, they sat together, holding tightly to one another as they ruminated in their own thoughts. At last Severus stood and helped her to her feet, into his arms, and kissed her once more. A world of desperation was in the kiss, and she returned it in full measure.  
  
"Time to go, Rowena."  
  
Her mouth was too dry, her throat too choked from holding back tears, for her to speak. She merely nodded, picked up her satchel of things for the children, and followed him silently out the door.  
  
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The Thestral ride was bittersweet, Severus's warm arms around her. He helped her gently off when they landed, and followed her silently inside. He had very little pleasure in this now, with Katrina at the Weasley's, and thoughts of her added to his brooding mood. He regretted not being able to see her again, to say goodbye, in case the unthinkable happened. He hadn't had thought to ask Rowena about her when they were alone, and it was not something he could discuss now.  
  
He took his usual seat in the corner when they had reached the ward, and felt the pang of Katrina's absence even more as he looked at the bed she had slept in and the books he had read to her. He watched Rowena interact with the children without making any attempt to do so himself.  
  
She was sitting, rocking a small infant in one arm while using the free hand to hold a book that she was reading to the older children, when he stood suddenly. "I am going out for some air, Rowena. Do not leave the ward. I will return later."  
  
His eyes bored into hers, unreadable as always. He answered her small nod of acknowledgement with one of his own, and was gone.  
  
She went through the rest of her visit mechanically. Helping with the evening meal and baths as though she were a robot set on auto pilot, her mind lost to all but thoughts of Severus and what he must be doing at that moment.  
  
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Severus entered the small men's room near the security wing. He looked around thoroughly, until satisfied that it was empty, and then sealed the door. Immediately another man appeared, removing an invisibility cloak.  
  
"Kingsley and Podmore are on guard duty. They've got Moody's other cloak. Everything's set."  
  
"Very well. And Tonks?"  
  
"Where you directed. I took her there with this cloak. She's already changed form."  
  
Severus sighed and nodded. He plucked a hair from his own head and dropped it into a flask he had removed from his pocket. He passed this flask to the other man, and took the invisibility cloak.  
  
Now was the time for last words. For emotional revelations or tender messages to give comfort to the survivors if the worst should happen. "Lupin...." He didn't know what to say. This man, his enemy for so many years, for so many reasons, yet also brother to the woman he had come to care about. And lover to the woman he was assisting into danger. Remus stood silent, pale and wan himself. "I haven't had time to see Katrina since taking her to the Weasleys. And Rowena... If something happens..."  
  
Remus clasped Severus's hand in a moment of understanding, however temporary it might be. "I'll look after them, Severus."  
  
"I will do what I can for Tonks."  
  
"I know you will. I guess this is it, then. Good luck."  
  
Snape nodded and drew the invisibility cloak around himself. Remus drank from the potion and waited for the transformation to be complete. He then opened the door wider than was actually necessary as he left the lavatory. He strode down the length of the security hallway, as far as visitors were allowed, attempting to mimic Snape's gliding walk. As he passed near a door that had two Auror's standing outside it at rigid attention, he sneezed spectacularly.  
  
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She was busily involved in putting the children to bed when the ward door opened, and Severus entered. No. Not Severus. Even had he not told her that much of the proceedings tonight, she would have known at once. The man in Snape's body displayed more emotion than Severus would have ever revealed. He had a dejected air that caused his shoulders to hunch, and instead of the impassive mask, his face was pale and drawn with tension. He would never betray that much emotion outwardly. She suddenly realized that she needed to get him out of here quickly. Even Mandy would notice these differences!  
  
He went to the chair that Snape always occupied, and sat silently, pretending to engross himself in a book.  
  
Rowena quickly and efficiently finished putting the children to bed and said goodnight to the nurse on duty, "Severus, I suppose we should leave a bit early tonight. Term starts tomorrow and I have things to finish up."  
  
He stood fluidly, "Indeed. As do I," the deep baritone voice answered. She nodded and took his arm, and they went out to the courtyard and the waiting Thestral.  
  
Rowena did not know who the person was in the guise of Severus. But she knew now why he had told her about that part of the plan. She had known from the moment she saw him reenter the ward that this person was not Severus. She would have been immediately afraid and possibly raised the alarm if she had not been prepared for it.  
  
Still, if there was any doubt that he was not who he appeared to be, the lack of thrilling sensation when he touched her would have given all the proof she needed. It was Severus's body, his voice, even his clothing. But it was not Severus's arms around her as the Thestral took flight.  
  
And once safely in the air, the tears she had withheld all day began to flow. She stemmed them upon landing, and walked sedately to the castle, to her quarters, her arm in his as she had done so often before. He even accompanied her inside and sealed the door as was Severus's habit.  
  
Striding across to her living room, he threw himself onto the couch and buried his face in his hands, a person obviously in deep anguish. Which told her at last who it was. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "They'll be okay, Remus. They have to be."  
  
He held her tightly, and soon the potion had worn off so that it was indeed Remus with her, and they sat, long into the night, comforting one another, with nothing they could do but wait.  
  
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A hooded figure appeared suddenly in a dark patch of woods, supporting another similarly attired figure that seemed unable to stand on its own. A wand appeared in the hand of the taller figure, "Mobilicorpus." This figure then appeared to waft the second form gently before it, walking silently to a crumbling ruin standing deserted and alone in the depths of the woods.  
  
He passed some unknown barrier, and suddenly the building was not a crumbling ruin, but a sound, if small stone structure several stories in height. Enormously tall cloaked beings glided along the area as though guarding. He did not stop, but went directly inside.  
  
"Master. She is here." He magically directed the limp form to the floor at the feet of Lord Voldemort.  
  
"Well done!" The snake-like man leaned over and pulled away her mask and hood to look at her. "What is her condition?"  
  
"She is unconscious at present, but she has been having periods of lucidity. The Dementors might cause some relapse in her recovery, but she was already well enough that there was discussion of returning her to Azkaban. Her memory is a bit jumbled still, but does not seem to be damaged beyond repair."  
  
Voldemort listened as the man talked, and then pulled up the left sleeve of the woman's robes. He hissed angrily. A great portion of her left arm was missing, horribly scarred as though someone had gouged the flesh away slowly with a blunt object. "What has happened here? Where is my Mark? Who did this?"  
  
"She did, Master. In her madness, in Azkaban. It was what started the infection that nearly cost her life. When she felt the burn but could not respond, she dug it out with anything she could find."  
  
"Pity. Well, I will have to find another way to summon her. And these?" He held up the woman's limp hand so that several rings glittered in the dim light from the fire.  
  
"As near as I can tell, Master, they are merely adornments. They must have had some sentimental value, as there is a charm on them which continually alters their size so that they did not become lose, even in her extreme weight loss, and no one has been able to remove them. Short of amputating her fingers, of course. Do you wish them off?"  
  
The Dark Lord shook his head in irritation. "Unnecessary. It will only decrease her usefulness to me. Sentimental fool. I believe she had a lover who was killed by Aurors. Likely they were gifts from him that she couldn't bear to part with. A weakness, to be sure, but one I will find use for. I wish to speak with her. Revive her."  
  
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Sorry guys. Chapter ends here. You'll learn more of what old Voldie does in future chapters, but I can't have you glimpsing too far into his inner workings, now, can I? Next chapter starts the new Term. Dylan will continue to be annoying. Severus will continue to be snarky. And we will now get to have student interaction as well. This will remain primarily from the Rowena/Severus point of view, so you won't see much inside other classes or the goings on with the kids except in their interactions with the teachers.  
  
Please review! Chapter 16 already well in progress. 


	16. Chapter 16: Returning to Hogwarts

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
The start of term. Now we get to interact with our favorite students and teachers. I won't be attempting to do a "Sorting Hat Song". Please read and review. Constructive criticism is just as welcome as compliments—how else can I improve? Thank you!  
  
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Chapter 16: Returning to Hogwarts  
  
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She sat dozing fitfully in a recliner, next to the empty bed in the secret room in the hospital wing. She had showered and changed into pajamas and a dressing gown, Remus had gone to his room at the Three Broomsticks to do the same, and returned. He was either asleep, or dozing as she was, in a chair in the corner. Dumbledore had tried to get them to go to bed. What was to be gained by sitting up all night? But Rowena couldn't stand not to be in the spot where she knew he would return—if he returned. And Remus needed the confirmation of at least that much success as well.  
  
The sun was slowly rising, gradually lightening the room, yet he had not returned. Her body was exhausted, and so she did fade in and out of a light sleep, though every sound roused her. Remus seemed to be doing the same, and their matching eyes often met, anguished gaze mirroring anguished gaze across the empty bed in the silence of the room.  
  
House elves brought breakfast to them, which lay cold and uneaten on the corner table. Later they brought lunch, then afternoon tea. With each interruption marking the further passage of time, Rowena's heart constricted further in fear, a panic bordering surely on the edge of madness. Who would have thought she could feel this much misery and remain alive? She felt as though tight bands were wrapped around her chest, around her lungs, around her heart. Every tick of the small clock on the wall caused the bands to constrict tighter and tighter, until she thought she might no longer even be able to breathe. Or that a scream of deep agony of the soul might soon be forced out of her.  
  
At four o'clock, Albus entered the room. He had avoided intruding upon their silent vigil all day. His face was pale and drawn. He touched Rowena's shoulder in a comforting caress, and met her frightened brown eyes with his worried blue ones, "Rowena, you must prepare for the feast. I will wait here until you return. You can then wait here until it begins if you wish, once you are prepared. But I must insist that you come to the feast."  
  
"Albus, I can't! I can't leave here. What if he's hurt when he comes back? How can I go to the feast not knowing whether... not knowing if...," her voice trailed off, and the tears she had fought since the Thestral ride home yesterday finally found release in great heart-wrenching sobs. Albus pulled her to her feet and into a fatherly embrace as he let her cry. When the sobs diminished, he hugged her gently.  
  
"Rowena, my dear. You can and you must. You can't give up hope. We have heard nothing. If the worst had happened, we would surely have had word from our other sources by now. If you were to absent yourself from the feast, you might draw attention to HIS absence. Dozens of my students here are children of Death Eaters. We must not draw attention to Severus's absence. He's been late to feasts before."  
  
He actually managed a small smile, "He actually prefers to be late, as he loathes them in general. His tardy arrival, or even complete absence won't be suspicious. So long as none of the rest of us MAKE it suspicious. We oughtn't know what he's doing."  
  
Looking down at her and giving her a gentle hug once more, he added a note of firmness to his voice, "This is part of who Severus is. To support him, you must be strong and do what is expected of you to help maintain his role. Now, go and prepare for the feast. The new teachers will be expected to look professional and unruffled when presented to the students. You may return here and wait until 6:00 p.m., but no later. At that time, no matter what, you must take your place in the Great Hall. Remus can stay here. Poppy will send me word when he arrives if assistance is needed."  
  
Pulling a handkerchief from a pocket, she dried her face and nodded dejectedly. "You're right, Albus. I wasn't thinking. You'll stay here until I get back? It won't take me long."  
  
"Of course, Rowena. Remus will stay, too. He won't be alone when he returns. Now, go."  
  
She was back in half an hour, primly dressed in dark green robes, her hair clean and shiny, restrained in its "working" braid. She had added a touch of make up to hide her pallor, and had a grim set to her jaw. Albus gave her a worried but approving smile and left the two Lupins again to their silent vigil. "Six o'clock, Rowena," he reminded her as he left the room, to which she merely nodded as she resumed her seat next to the bed.  
  
Still, the small clock ticked on. And still, the bed remained empty.  
  
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At a quarter to six, Rowena stood and began to pace, striving as well as she could to compose herself to sit through three hours of sorting, feasting, and announcing while she was in such turmoil. She tried to be comforted by Dumbledore's assurances. Did he really have sources that would know if the worst had happened?  
  
Her body was so full of panic and adrenaline that her senses seemed oddly distorted. Her vision seemed blurred, as though nothing would focus properly, and her hearing was nearly deafened by the thudding of her own heart. She had paused by the window to watch students exiting the carriages at the front doors, their long shadows from the light of the open doors casting strange, spiky shapes across the front lawn.  
  
And then the soft whoosh, like a sudden gentle breeze across tall grass on a calm day. She spun instantly on her heel and rushed to the bed.  
  
He was already sitting at the edge of it, and quickly stood. He looked even more tired and wan than the day before, but whole and uninjured. He glanced from one worried looking Lupin to the other and managed a small grimace, saying sarcastically, "Ah, the Lupin welcoming committee."  
  
But whatever other snarky or biting thing he may have intended to say beyond that was lost when Rowena threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Her trembling body and shaking shoulders spoke of tears, and he fell silent, somewhat chagrined. He enfolded her into his arms and laid his very stubbly chin against her head. He looked over her head at Remus who had also stood, and was looking angry.  
  
"By the Gods, Snape! She's been worried half to death! You could be a little considerate of her feelings, you know!" Remus snarled at him, saying nothing of his own worry over Tonks.  
  
Severus tightened his arms around her further, protectively. "Lupin..." he said dangerously, but again Rowena interrupted him before he completed his comment.  
  
"Don't! Both of you!" She hadn't released Severus from her tight hold, but had composed herself enough that her face only looked pink and blotchy, her eyes merely overbright, as she turned her head to look at her brother. "Remus... please... just don't!"  
  
She looked up at Severus then, her body still trembling violently. She was smiling tremulously, and reached up to brush a lock of very dirty hair away from his pale and scowling face, caressing his stubbly, unshaven cheek gently. He looked like hell. Yet she devoured him with her eyes, as though he were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  
  
"We were both worried, Severus. Tension is running high, for all of us. I promised Albus I wouldn't be late to the feast. Tell Remus what you can, please? Whatever you safely can, that might be of comfort? It's enough for me to know you're back, that you're here..."  
  
As he looked into her shining face at that moment, her obvious joy at the mere sight of him, he realized she could have asked him for anything within his power and he would have given it. Even civility to Remus Lupin.  
  
She caressed his face, and he forgot they were not alone in the room. Forgot everything but the strange miracle that had caused him to be so regarded by such a woman. He tightened his arms even more around her and brushed her lips with a tender, searing kiss. She sighed against his mouth, opening her own to brush his lower lip with her tongue, sweetly tasting. He answered the caress with the briefest one of his own tongue, a mere promise of kisses to come, and released her gently.  
  
He gave her the smallest of smiles as he stepped away, "Don't be late to Albus's feast, Lupin. That is a privilege he only grants to me. I will be there, as late as I possibly can. Brother Lupin will have to content himself with grilling me with questions as I get cleaned up. Will that suffice?"  
  
"Yes. Thank you, Severus," she said, smilingly, and she stood on tip-toe to kiss him briefly again before heading to the door.  
  
"Lupin... don't let the Cowboy sit next to you. I will be there."  
  
"As you command, Snape," she said almost playfully. "I'll save you a seat, then."  
  
He snorted and watched her leave, and then at last acknowledged the presence of the other Lupin in the room, who was frowning at him. He chose to ignore the sour look, for now. He probably should not have kissed her in front of her brother—when had he become so careless in his rare displays of emotion?  
  
"Come along then. I have promised your sister to tell you what I can. You will need to follow me to my quarters."  
  
"Lead the way," was all Remus managed to choke out in return, following him silently.  
  
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They entered his quarters in brooding silence. Remus had the sense not to question him in the halls, and Severus had not softened so much towards the mutant to be willing to engage in aimless conversation.  
  
"Wait here," he said, brusquely, gesturing vaguely to the seating area in front of the cold fireplace. He then disappeared into his bedroom, reappearing shortly in clean robes, his Slytherin crest on the robes shining brightly, silver and green on the black. He had apparently used some sort of cleansing spell on his hair, as it did appear somewhat cleaner, though still limp and lank.  
  
He then stepped into his bathroom, leaving the door open as he began to attend to his fine stubble of beard. "Alright, Lupin. What do you wish to know?" he called in bored tones through the open door to where Remus was sitting.  
  
Remus stood and came to the doorway, leaning against the open frame. "Where is she?"  
  
"Tonks is currently residing with the Dark Lord. When she is 'well' enough, she will be moved to the Malfoy Manner. I will be contriving that as soon as possible."  
  
Remus paled, "He hurt her?"  
  
Snape gave him a withering glance, "No, Lupin, He did not. However, she is in the guise of a severely mentally and physically ill person, or had you forgotten? I have told the Dark Lord that the Dementors he favors as guards may delay her improvement, or even cause a relapse in her illness. This will be my excuse for contriving the change of residence."  
  
"I didn't realize you had so much influence with Him," Remus said, suspiciously.  
  
Snape glared at him angrily, "Taking after Moody now, are we, Lupin? I am one of the few of his Death Eaters, that I know of, with any skill in healing arts. So in this matter, yes, I hold some influence. I will have to attend her several times a week as she 'improves'. The Dark Lord will want as few of his followers as possible to be aware of her existence and location. He trusts none of us. I doubt any other healers will attend her."  
  
Remus ran a tired hand through his hair, and shook his head in chagrin, "I'm sorry, Severus. I don't mean to be so accusing. I'm just so... worried."  
  
Now it was Snape's turn to eye him suspiciously. But there was no denying the sincerity of his feelings. Remus had never been subtle nor tried to conceal his emotions, but now Snape felt as though he had become nearly transparent. Perhaps it was because he was learning to read the sister so well, and they were indeed quite alike in many ways. He said nothing, but nodded in silent acceptance of the apology.  
  
"Does she have an 'out'? A way of communicating with us, aside from your visits?"  
  
A very satisfied, almost triumphant smirk overspread Snape's features, though he didn't respond right away as he finished shaving. He left the bathroom then and walked to a small box on his mantle, opening it and withdrawing a small unadorned golden ring, and tossing it carelessly to Lupin, who caught it.  
  
"She is wearing a pair of rings. Claire Lestrange had a lover who was killed sometime after her incarceration. Tonks has the rings, and I've... modified them." There was no mistaking the self-congratulatory air, though his expression had not changed noticeably.  
  
"The ring you have will enable you to communicate with her for brief periods, essentially telepathically. It's more subtle than that, but the comparison is sufficient. I recommend you only use it when SHE initiates the communication. If you are in her mind when the Dark Lord is with her, you could quickly blow her cover. So long as you are wearing it, she can contact you at will.  
  
"I had intended to give it to Albus, as head of the Order." He shrugged carelessly, "But so long as someone in the Order has it, it matters not whom that someone is."  
  
Remus looked at Snape as though seeing him for the first time. He would not have expected such an act of compassion from such a quarter. Severus met his gaze with a brow raised challengingly. Remus only shook his head in bewilderment and managed to find his voice briefly, "Thank you, Severus."  
  
Snape snorted aggressively, "Do not thank me, Lupin. I think this is beyond foolish for her to even be there. Now, I am sufficiently late to the feast. Have you any further questions?"  
  
"You said she had a pair of rings? Does the other do anything? What if Voldemort takes them away?"  
  
"The other is a Portkey. It will work once. If she is outed, she needs only to speak the password to be brought here. He can't take them because I've enchanted them to be unremoveable, short of amputating her fingers. The enchantment will explain any magical aura if they are examined closely. And I offered to remove them at once upon presenting her to Him."  
  
"YOU WHAT!?!"  
  
Severus frowned, "Lupin, you are such a naïve fool. Had I suggested that he leave them alone, he would have wanted them off at once. By leaving the decision to him and offering to remove them immediately, he has less reason to suspect trickery.  
  
"Amputating fingers would affect her wand work. He wants her functional. He views them as a mark of sentimental weakness and will give them no more thought. Do, PLEASE TRY to give me a jot of credit for knowing what I am doing!" The last was said with a sarcastic sneer.  
  
Remus was still frowning, "But if He had said He wanted them off? You would have chopped off her fingers on the spot, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Of course," he said, attempting to display an air of complete unconcern.  
  
But Remus noticed the tightening of his jaw and shoulders. Suddenly, in the midst of his outrage that the man could be so callous, he realized that Snape wasn't nearly as unaffected by the things he was forced to do as he wished everyone to believe. He felt a rush of compassion for the other man, but it was quickly suppressed by his concern for Tonks.  
  
It disgusted him, that he could speak of mutilating another human being so nonchalantly, and in his worry and fear he growled, "How do you live with yourself?"  
  
He was sorry he had said the words as soon as they were spoken. Snape did not move, did not even blink, but his pale skin betrayed a flush of anger.  
  
"This conversation is over. Get out of my quarters," he said in the dangerously soft voice that he used when rage was about to overwhelm him.  
  
"Severus, I'm sorry... I didn't mean... I shouldn't have said... "  
  
"GET OUT!"  
  
Remus realized he had gone too far, and exited the quarters at once.  
  
Severus waited several minutes, composing himself, before leaving as well, sealing the door behind him.  
  
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The Great Hall was decked out in splendor, shining golden plates and goblets glittering in the candlelight. Glorious enchanted banners of each House Crest hung in vivid colors over each House Table. The doors would be thrown open very soon and the hall would become thronged with the excited babble of the returning students.  
  
Rowena entered from the staff door at side of the room nearest the Staff Table. Dumbledore sat at the center of the table talking in low tones to Minerva, Hagrid leaning in and listening in as well from his other side. All three looked grave and worried. One look at Rowena's beaming, radiant face told them all they needed to know. The transformation of the air at the table was immediate. Minerva released a weak sigh and lifted her glass to Rowena with a tremulous smile. Hagrid clapped his hands once and guffawed, grinning broadly and taking a huge swig from the bucket-sized tankard in front of him. Albus merely beamed happily back at her.  
  
She sat demurely next to Professor Flitwick and was happy to see him smiling as well. "Oh, what a happy day, Rowena," he squeaked in his high- pitched voice. She nodded her agreement, along with several of the other teachers. Rowena didn't know whom among the teachers, aside from Minerva and Hagrid, were part of the Order. Nor did she want to know. She assumed that her other colleagues were happy to have the students back and left it at that.  
  
Dylan entered the Great Hall moments before the doors were to open, boots clicking, spurs jangling. Only two empty seats remained. The one next to Rowena, between herself and Minerva and one between Professors Sinistra and Vector. He grinned brightly and moved towards the one next to Rowena, but she placed a hand over the back of the chair possessively, and he instead took the other without embarrassment.  
  
As soon as he was seated, the doors at the end of the hall magically opened, and the students began to file inside. Minerva leaned conspiratorially towards Rowena, across the empty chair, smiling. "They are enchanted so as not to open for the Opening feast until all the Professors have taken their seats. Albus had to modify the enchantment years ago for Severus. He avoids being on time to these things whenever he can."  
  
Rowena laughed, "Yes, Albus told me of that earlier. It's rather unlike him, usually, isn't it? To be late to anything, I mean?"  
  
Minerva frowned slightly and rolled her eyes a tad, "Severus was one of my most dedicated students when he was here at school. He has very little patience for students who are not equally driven as he was—which basically includes everyone. He's quite unpleasant to the children—you will see."  
  
"Oh, I can imagine!" Rowena said, with another laugh. Her eyes then went to the students, and she engaged in "people watching". It was immediately evident who were the friends, the groups, the 'cliques'. The two Weasley children were obvious at once, and she gave them both a small wave as they grinned her way. Harry Potter was with Ron, as was the girl she remembered from the Memorial—Granger.... Hermoine, that was it.  
  
Over at the Slytherin Table, Draco Malfoy gave her a very formal nod of recognition, which she returned with a polite smile and nod of her own. She was going to have to watch herself. She was determined not to be prejudiced or biased in her instruction with the students, but she definitely had a bad feeling about Draco.  
  
Still, Severus had overcome similar odds, hadn't he? Was it possible that Draco was redeemable? She resolved to make no assumptions about him based on his behavior while under the sharp, watchful eye of his father. She would wait and see how he behaved on his own.  
  
Nearly all the other students were strangers to her. Marietta Edgecombe she recognized from pictures her mother had, as she knew her mother from the Ministry. A few others she recognized from similar reference. But none she had actually met.  
  
When most of the kids had found seats, and while they were chattering happily, Minerva left the room to collect the Sorting Hat, stool, and first year students.  
  
The Sorting was nearly over when Severus entered the room through the same side door Rowena had done nearly half an hour before. He was glowering darkly and didn't meet her eyes when she smiled at him, though he took the empty seat next to her with unconcerned grace, nodding in acknowledgement of her silent greeting.  
  
He scanned the room intently. He very methodically took note of each and every student in the room, annoyed to have missed so much of the sorting. He had an excellent memory for names and liked to know the names of each student before they entered his class. It added so much more to his intimidation factor. He knew most of the intricacies of the interactions amongst the student population. He was Slytherin to the core, after all. Knowing the acquaintances, allies, and adversaries of each student was always very useful.  
  
His ruminations and studying of the current student body, and particularly the exchange of dark glares with one Mr. Harry James Potter were interrupted by Rowena's gentle hand on his thigh. It was merely a gentle caress, meant to get his attention without attracting the attention of others. His body, to his annoyance, responded to the touch at once with a quickening of his pulse and a tightening in his groin. Which of course got his attention, though his anger at her brother was by no means diminished, and reflected itself in his bitter scowl as he turned to look at her.  
  
"Severus, what did Remus do?" she asked, once again annoying him further by her apparent perceptiveness.  
  
He had caught Malfoy's interested stare in their direction, and so decided to put on a bit of a 'show' for his benefit. Turning in his chair to face her more fully, he draped a casual arm across the back of her chair. He wasn't even really touching her—for anyone else, it would have merely been a casual gesture. Many teachers did this all the time as they moved closer to one another to speak and be heard over the loud hum of the student chatter. For Snape to do such a thing, though... to put his arm around the rather pretty young woman that no one knew yet, elicited precisely the response he wished, in exactly the right quarters.  
  
He leaned forwards so that he was speaking in her ear. His face nearly brushed hers. For all the world he might have been a lover whispering sweet nothings. Indeed, her face flushed pink and her heart began to beat a little faster at his proximity. The part of him that was cataloging all his interactions with her noticed her tremble with pleased satisfaction, and also delighted in the soft fragrance of her hair.  
  
His words, though, when he finally spoke, were angry and bitter. "Your dear BROTHER seems to have sunk to new lows, Lupin. After I had carefully detailed to him the many things I had devised and contrived to arrange for the safety of his paramour, I was forced also to tell him some of the rather unpleasant consequences that may arise from her charade. His precise words, at that point, were, 'How do you live with yourself', in reference to my role in all this."  
  
Her sharp intake of breath and stiffening of her back gave him pause a moment. He was angry, to be sure. What did Lupin know of how he lived with himself in light of his past and present involvement with the Death Eaters? The words echoed in his head, eating at him like a cancer. 'How do you live with yourself'... did he not ask himself that same question nearly every day?  
  
He barely COULD live with himself. Did no one understand that? Well, Albus did a bit, perhaps. Rowena. Merlin's Beard, Rowena didn't understand at all! She thought it could be all forgotten and washed away, a clean slate, by some ephemeral thing like 'forgiveness' or 'redemption'. One does not forget or wash away the stain of guilt for the kinds of things he had done. The kinds of things he was still capable of doing when the need arose.  
  
"Oh, Severus! He didn't!! I'm so sorry! After all you've done for him...," her hand was still on his leg, and she had squeezed it gently. Her eyes, when he leaned back to look at her, were glittering with anger and indignation on his behalf. The gentle blush of excitement at his proximity had risen to a flush of anger.  
  
This, however, only provoked him further. Her blind trust was again eating at his conscience. His past actions were too horrific. He had no right to any semblance of happiness. He had done nothing to earn the affections and trust of any decent woman, and certainly not THIS one.  
  
He hissed in her ear again, "You are so bloody naïve, Lupin! HE'S the one who's got the right of this. Of me. You just don't get it!"  
  
The sorting had ended and Dumbledore had stood giving the words to start the feast so that the table was suddenly laden with food. He stopped his rant, looking away from the sharp reproach in her eyes. He determinedly brushed her hand off his leg, and resolutely ignored her for the rest of the meal.  
  
He allowed himself to be drawn into vague comments with Minerva regarding the potential of the newest batch of students. She was far more optimistic than he was. Rowena equally unconcernedly chatted with Flitwick about her lesson plans for the first few classes, and ignored him with equal determination. Severus did not miss the speculative glances of the Cowboy from across the table, and told himself he didn't care.  
  
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"Now that we have all been made comfortable by our excellent feast, I have a few start of term announcements," Albus began, standing and addressing the hall. "First, I would like to introduce you to our newest Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor, Dylan Howard. He is from America, and I'm sure will be a fine addition to our esteemed faculty."  
  
Dylan stood briefly when Albus gestured to him, and bowed slightly to the hall as the students clapped politely. He wore dark blue wizard's robes over his usual 'cowboy' garb. Rowena noted the amused looks that passed between students in the Hall. He quickly sat and Albus continued.  
  
"We also have a newly created class, Magical Theory and Research. This is available only to fourth years and above, and will be taught by Professor Rowena Lupin." Rowena felt herself blush slightly as she stood. Public speaking and crowds were NOT her forte. She had a moment of wild panic as she wondered what possessed her to agree to teach. She sat quickly amidst the polite applause, but also heard whispers of "Lupin" and knew the students were wondering about her relationship to Remus.  
  
"Hogsmeade visits this year will be closely chaperoned. I need not tell you that our world is currently in the midst of dangerous times, and we will not be taking any needless risks. To that effect, please be aware that curfews this year are going to be very, VERY strictly monitored. This is not the time to be sneaking to the kitchens at midnight for a snack...."  
  
A few more notices regarding Quidditch and some of the clubs, and the students were dismissed from the Great Hall. Albus immediately strode to the Gryffindor table and collected Harry Potter before he had the chance to leave. The boy gave Albus a look that could only be called sullen and resentful, almost bitter, but he did follow the Head Master to the staff table. To HER, in fact.  
  
"Professor Lupin, I believe you met Harry Potter this summer?" Albus asked genially, his voice low to include only herself and Harry. She nodded but said nothing. On her other side, Severus was ostensibly listening to Minerva, though she suspected he was listening to what Albus had to say instead.  
  
"I need Harry to be instructed in Occlumency. I need someone I trust to do this. I would like YOU to do this," he said, simply.  
  
This was too much for Severus to ignore, and he snorted loudly in derision, turning in his chair to regard the three of them, "That's rather the blind leading the blind, Albus, don't you think? Have you examined Lupin's Occlumency? Her weakness is the same as his—emotion. If you get her riled up with any sort of emotion, which is easy to do, her discipline falters. You might as well let me continue it and be done. If he can behave with some semblance of self control and keep his nose out of my personal business, that is."  
  
Potter had paled visibly where he stood, sullen and silent next to Albus, and was shaking his head wordlessly. He was apparently horror struck at the idea of doing the lessons with Snape.  
  
Rowena rose from her seat at the table and rounded on Severus angrily, "Oh, yes. That would be a great benefit. Let's put him in a room with the person whom he dislikes the most and who dislikes him equally, and let them start throwing spells at each other. I heard enough rumors of how well that worked last year. I think not. You can have him after I've had a chance to teach him the basics."  
  
"I taught him the basics. He didn't practice," Severus snarled, no less angrily, though once again finding himself an unwilling admirer of her spirit.  
  
"Professor Snape," she bit back, "surely you are aware that, 'Clear your mind and prepare to defend yourself' does not constitute the basics," she said sarcastically.  
  
"It ought to be sufficient. I learned entirely on my own. He is lazy and doesn't try!"  
  
"ENOUGH!" Albus's sharp voice broke through the argument. "This is precisely why I wish Rowena to teach him, if she is willing, if Harry is willing. She can show him how to compensate for the weakness which you have pointed out, Severus. The practice will eventually strengthen both of them. And there is no past history of unpleasantness to make things difficult. Now. Harry, Rowena, I think at least once a week is imperative."  
  
Rowena and Severus were still staring at each other angrily, breathing hard. Rowena was the first to look away, to look at Harry. "I would be glad to help you, Mr. Potter. Will Monday evenings be convenient?"  
  
Harry had been standing in open-mouthed wonder as he watched Rowena and Snape argue. Snape didn't pull his wand on her, which he more than half expected him to do. She didn't back down from him, either. Harry had thought that she sort of fancied Snape, but decided now he must have been wrong. She surely wouldn't have criticized him as she had done if she liked him, would she? Though he had been equally critical talking of her 'weakness'.  
  
He didn't know what to think of this Lupin, but she was Remus's sister, and she had stood up for him to Snape. Both in her favor, so he nodded, "What time should I come to your office, Professor?"  
  
"Whenever you've finished your evening meal is fine, Mr. Potter. I'll be in my office by six. I'll see you tomorrow evening then. Unless you're taking my class?" She hadn't gotten a final student roster yet, her class being so new, and so had no idea who had signed up for it, aside from Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Er..., Well yeah, I sort of signed up for it last week. Um... well... Professor Lupin... I mean, the other Professor Lupin....," Harry stammered, uncertainly.  
  
Rowena sighed and rolled her eyes, but she smiled rather knowingly at him, "Ah, let me guess. My brother asked you to take my class? Maybe asked you to 'keep an eye' on me?"  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly, "Well, yeah, he did. But I was thinking about taking it anyway." He looked anxiously then at something over her shoulder. She didn't need to look to know that Severus had stood behind her.  
  
She heard him make a small, derisive noise in his throat, and then the soft swish of his robes as he turned away. She could just see him out of the corner of her eye as he left the room.  
  
"Alright, then Mr. Potter. Tomorrow in class and then after dinner." She gave him a slight smile and shook his hand.  
  
Albus met her annoyed gaze with a rather amused one of his own and smiled happily, "Capital! Very well then, Harry, off to your House." He watched him walk away worriedly and then sighed.  
  
"Ah, Rowena. This has been a hard few days for you, dear. Severus is always especially irritable after a difficult assignment. It's nothing personal." He offered his arm and walked out of the Great Hall with her. "I'll let you in on a bit of a hint about my dear friend, Severus. Maybe you've already figured it out on your own.  
  
"He doesn't believe he deserves to have anyone be kind to him. When he's feeling particularly unhappy about what he's been asked or forced to do, any level of kindness just makes him angrier. It's rather backwards, I know, but it's been true of him ever since he came back to us. Maybe always."  
  
A wistful smile crossed her face as she nodded, "I know, Albus. It doesn't change my feelings for him a jot. But I'm certainly not going to sit by and let him trample all over me. I was so relieved to see him back safely, and then at the feast it was like he was an entirely different person than the man I left in the hospital wing a half hour before. My brother had more than a little to do with that, though, and his anger was justified.  
  
"I just don't intend to let him take it out on me. I understand the anger; I don't even blame him for being angry. I can support him in his rages. I'm not afraid of him. But he won't respect me, and I won't respect myself, if I sit idly by and let him rant at me like it's my fault. Or rant at someone else just to have a convenient target. I think we're going to have some issues. Harry Potter might end up being a rather large one."  
  
Albus laughed warmly and patted her hand as they reached the door to her quarters. "You are likely right at that, Rowena. I think its good for Severus to have someone like you around. If it helps you at all, I do believe he has become rather fond of you."  
  
Rowena grinned happily and kissed his very hairy cheek, "It does help, Albus. He has a rotten way of showing it, but my heart tells me you just might be right."  
  
"Always trust your heart, Rowena," he said, very solemnly, and then turned to walk away down the hall.  
  
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Oh, this was a fun chapter to write. Snape has been dying to jab at Potter since the Memorial. He will get in much more before the story is complete, I promise. I also got tired of Rowena being so patiently accepting of Severus's rages. Things will be rocky but spicy for a while now.  
  
Thank you for the reviews and suggestions. Yes, Rowena has done a bit of research with the Unforgivables, you will learn more of that later. Occlumency is going to be fun! Rowena is more than a bit unconventional in her teaching methods. We will also see the DA again soon, though perhaps not the next chapter.  
  
Like everyone else, I crave reviews. If you liked my story, please recommend it to others. Many people avoid "original character" stories out of fear of "Mary Sues". I am trying to make sure that Rowena, aside from her classic "Mary Sue" Snape obsession, does not take on any other "Mary Sueish" characteristics.  
  
Thank you, and happy reading! 


	17. Chapter 17: Slytherin Ways

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
Huge thanks to my beta-readers: Padfoot the Marauder and Elaine. This is my first beta'd chapter, I can't believe how much better it flows! Hopefully these lovely ladies will have time to help me do future chapters and perhaps even polish up the preceding ones. I can't thank you both enough!  
  
Rowena's first class. Katrina visits. Rowena gets a tad manipulative.  
  
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Chapter 17: Slytherin Ways  
  
Rowena was among the first teachers to arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast. She sat down a small distance away from the few other early risers who were already seated at the staff table. There were no 'set' times for most meals in Hogwarts, instead a time range where teachers and students could come and go according to their schedules.  
  
The fact that Rowena generally was an early riser, combined with the knowledge that her first class was starting at 9:00 left her just too apprehensive about her first attempt at teaching to sit in her flat any longer. Thus she sought her salvation in nervously toying with the eggs and toast that were lifelessly sprawled on her plate.  
  
Silently she had allowed the conversations of the other teachers to waft over her, until someone snuck up on her and roused her from her musings.  
  
"Howdy, little lady. Mind if I sit here a spell? You're lookin' a might down. You ain't nervous about teachin', are ya?" Without giving her a chance to refuse him the seat, Dylan sat in the empty chair next to her and flashed his jubilant smile. "I gotta admit, I didn't know there'd be so many kids. Might have a time keeping the classes under control."  
  
Heroically resisting the urge to glare at him in annoyance, she gave him a very small smile of greeting. 'Little lady' indeed! "Good morning, Professor Howard. Yes, I confess, I am a bit nervous. I haven't done any teaching before."  
  
"Aw, now, I'm sure you'll do just fine." He looked at her, shrewdly assessing, "I reckon the real reason you seem a bit low today is that spat with your beau last night."  
  
Rowena flashed him a sidelong glance that she meant to be withering, but merely increased the brightness of his smile. "Who does he think he is, to talk about my private affairs like that?" she thought indignantly.  
  
Dylan turned in his chair towards her and leaned forwards. Rowena resisted the urge to lean away from him, though she did briefly consider activating her 'Navitas Texi' due to his proximity. Either option seemed rude or cowardly, so she satisfied herself with merely frowning at him coolly.  
  
"It ain't none of my business, o'course," Dylan commented, "and I'm right sorry that you'd be hurtin'. But I reckon you could do better'n that fella. He's as right prickly as a cactus."  
  
Rowena made a noise of shocked outrage, and was on the verge of telling him that he was bloody well right--it wasn't any of his business--when she found herself interrupted by a third party.  
  
"I believe the 'little lady' is quite capable of making her own decisions, Professor Howard"  
  
The deceptively silken tones of an annoyed Severus Snape washed over them from behind. Dylan actually jumped slightly and moved away from Rowena a fraction.  
  
"You are correct in one thing—it is none of your business," Severus spat, "Now. Move. You are in my chair."  
  
Rowena's eyes widened in disbelief.  
  
"Merlin's Beard!" she thought, "Just exactly how much gossip did he want running around the school??"  
  
Granted, only about a quarter of the student body was in the Hall at this moment, but at least half of those were watching the proceedings avidly. They hadn't paid much attention when Dylan had sat next to her, but she had noticed many heads turn in their direction shortly after he had taken his seat. She should have known that her very silent 'beau' was standing behind them. She couldn't believe she'd been so dim-witted. What a spiffy Auror she would have made!  
  
And then for him to order Dylan to move, as though the seat on her other side wasn't perfectly empty! Rowena felt the blush heat her face, but couldn't stop the slight smile of pleasure that formed on her lips, in spite of her current irritation with both men. She glanced surreptitiously at Dylan who was obviously trying to decide what to do.  
  
"Right 'cha are, Sev. Chair's all yours," he said courteously. Apparently he decided that taking on a senior member of the staff on his first day, in the Great Hall in front of students was NOT something he wanted to do.  
  
As he stood and bowed slightly, he grinned at the noise of outrage from Snape at the shortening of his name. He quickly went to sit by Minerva, already chatting warmly to her in his thick drawl.  
  
Having finally gotten rid of the annoying cowboy, Severus sat down in a graceful swirl of black robes. He imperceptibly moved his chair slightly closer to hers, but his infamous dark scowl was solidly fixed upon Howard.  
  
She tried to stifle a small laugh as she sipped her tea, looking at him contemplatively. The idea that she might actually enjoy a brief moment of two men vying for her attention was not something she would have ever ascribed to herself. Since when had she become such a... such a GIRL? Probably the instant that Severus first walked into her lab at the Ministry, she mused.  
  
Severus looked over at her when he heard her small snort of laughter, and his dark scowl softened slightly.  
  
"I was unaware that cowboys were to your taste, Lupin," he said sardonically.  
  
"I was unaware that you had a jealous streak, Sev," she replied, teasingly.  
  
He glared angrily at her. "I will not tolerate that," he said sharply, "Not even in jest. Do not call me that again. And I do not have a jealous streak. We have a job to do, an image to maintain, or had you forgotten already? Perhaps the charms of your cowboy are causing you to have second thoughts about your role?"  
  
Rowena laughed lightly, ignoring his obvious irritation. Everything just seemed brighter somehow, even in Severus's dark mood. He was at least speaking to her, which was an improvement over their parting last night. She noticed that he looked worlds better this morning. Apparently a nice vent of anger and a bit of sleep had gone far. She leaned in closer to him, and he moved towards her as well, so that they were nearly touching.  
  
"I have forgotten nothing, Severus," she said. "I do not care for cowboys a jot. And you do, indeed, have a jealous streak. It's okay. I like it. It's sort of cute."  
  
He snorted at this last and rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth did lift slightly in the smallest of smirks. He was finding himself newly unsettled at the thought that he couldn't maintain a good righteous anger with her. When had he gotten so soft? He reached for the platter of eggs and toast and shook his head.  
  
"Cute? Now I have to add 'cute' to the list of your delusions about me? I'm afraid it is only a matter of time before I will be forced to place you in the mental ward at St. Mungos for your own personal safety."  
  
He did not meet her eyes as he continued, rigidly adopting the air of bored unconcern he hid behind whenever his deeper emotions were involved.  
  
"You would be well within your rights if you chose not to speak with me after my behavior towards you at the feast yesterday," he admitted. He realized with a mild stab of alarm that this statement was closer than he had ever come before to a genuine apology for his actions. This Lupin seemed to have a frightening effect on his mental state!  
  
"It's okay, Severus," Rowena said reassuringly. "You were stressed, exhausted and angry with my brother. I was an easy target. I understand, as long as you don't expect me to sit quietly by and just 'take it'."  
  
"Indeed," he said, with a smirk as he glanced over at her, "You are too full of your own quick temper for that."  
  
She smiled back at him, but her air had a note of challenge, "While we're on the subject... I don't want you insulting or belittling any of the students in front of me. Not even Harry Potter."  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow in surprise at this. "Now you ask too much Lupin, and you know it. I loathe the boy. It is quite mutual. I could not change that, not even for you. Not even if I wished it, which I do not."  
  
"I don't think you really hate him, you hate his father," Rowena said, gazing at him very seriously, "He's not James. I'm not going to hash that out with you either way. I don't care how you FEEL about him, or how you behave towards him privately. I just don't want to SEE it."  
  
She took a deep breath and continued quickly, speaking rapidly so he wouldn't have the chance to interrupt her.  
  
"You are doing to him precisely what I hated about what James and his friends did to you. If Potter and Black had kept your feud private, I probably wouldn't have hated them quite so much. There was no excuse for them to deliberately, intentionally humiliate you in public, except malicious cruelty.  
  
"The same goes for you and Harry," she pointed out. "I'm his Professor now, as are you. It's very unprofessional behavior to belittle the students like that, particularly in front of other professors. I don't want to see it."  
  
With that, her flood of words drew to a close. All the while she had been watching his face to see how he would take her admonition. As always, he was inscrutable, though she thought she could detect a slight air of amusement behind the definite irritation.  
  
"So, Miss Rowena Danae Lupin does have her limits as to what level of depravity she will tolerate in her paramour, after all. I am actually glad to know it," he said sarcastically.  
  
There was a quirk to his mouth as he said this. He nodded, his voice becoming sardonically amused again, "Very well, PROFESSOR Lupin. I suppose you have a point regarding professional behavior. I will consider what you have said. I make no promises. Tormenting Harry Potter is one of my rare joys, and I am reluctant to give it up."  
  
She grinned at his teasing. She knew full well that his dislike of the boy was genuine, but that his public display of that dislike was more a show for the benefit of the children of Death Eaters. He was quite possibly glad for the excuse to be able to tone it down a bit.  
  
"That is acceptable, Professor," she said, laying a hand gently on his leg.  
  
He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it reassuringly. "Indeed. Now perhaps I will be allowed to finish my breakfast in peace?" He looked at her piercingly and added, "Are you nervous about your classes, as Cowboy Bill suggested?"  
  
Rowena sighed at the reminder of her classes, and the nervousness that had temporarily been forgotten returned in full measure.  
  
"Well, yes, actually a bit. I've spent most of my life so isolated. I've only ever been around lots of people for any length of time when I was a student here myself. All the rest of the time I've been pretty alone. Even working at the Ministry, I was quite secluded. And I'm afraid my own prejudices will come through."  
  
She lowered her voice and looked at him worriedly. She could tell him... he was Slytherin, after all. He would understand, and not laugh. "I spent all my school days firmly believing that Muggle-borns, or students raised as such, should be educated separately from children raised in a family of wizards. It seemed like it took so much time for the Muggle born kids to catch up with the basics. I was really frustrated. What if I get frustrated with my students now? It's not okay for a teacher to be biased! I'm really worried about it."  
  
He had listened to her with a brow raised in mild surprise.  
  
"Yet again you leave me astonished that you weren't placed in Slytherin house, Rowena," he commented, "Do not overly concern yourself with this. There is one Miss Hermoine Granger in your first class. She is muggle- born. I will say no more. You will see for yourself."  
  
The rest of their meal proceeded in relative silence. Perhaps it was because, as time went by, more and more students were making their way into the hall for breakfast. Or perhaps it was because of those butterflies (that felt like they were the size of a fist) nervously fluttering in her stomach; but Rowena could almost physically feel the first period closing in on her. Why on earth had she allowed herself to be talked into teaching? This wasn't her 'thing'! If this had been her thing she probably wouldn't have had the sudden urge to run to the loo to rid herself of her freshly ingested breakfast.  
  
Damn those butterflies.  
  
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Rowena sat silently at her desk, reading over her class notes as she waited for the students to trickle in. Her first class was to be the sixth years. She would have all Houses at once. This was unusual, but her subject was so specialized and obscure that not many students had signed up for it. There wasn't justification to split the Houses into pairs as most of the other classes were organized.  
  
She was beyond nervous to almost panic-stricken. Her palms were sweaty and her hands shook when she held them up to look at them. She wasn't exactly a shy person—in small groups or one-on-one she was fine. But the idea of TEACHING! Again she wondered in panicked musings how she had come to be here.  
  
She dried her hands surreptitiously on her robes as she watched the kids of her first period file in. As she made note of where the students took their seats she perceived that their behavior would make interesting data for a social study. Even though this was a combined class of all the Houses, the students of each house segregated themselves as though she had drawn invisible lines dividing them.  
  
When the bell rang, Rowena stood at the front of the class, and the students fell silent. She noticed Draco had to nudge the two large boys that sat at either side of him to get them to be quiet, but she was grateful that he was attempting to show her that much respect at least. The rather pug-nosed girl that was with them seemed to be willing to follow his lead as well.  
  
Her mouth was terribly dry, and she was quite afraid that the students could hear her heart pounding in fright. Still... this was it... first impressions and all that...  
  
"My name is Professor Rowena Lupin, as you know. And yes, to answer your question, Professor Remus Lupin is my brother. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to teach this class as another way of enhancing your magical knowledge and capabilities. I've spent the last 15 years in Research and Development in the Ministry of Magic. I started out with your basic household charms. Your mum might very well clean her toilets with one of my first successful charms. Not very glamorous, I know, but we all start somewhere, right?"  
  
She paused and inhaled, which she realized she hadn't done for a while, "Breathe, Rowena, breathe," she told herself. Her voice was slightly less tremulous when she continued.  
  
"I eventually worked my way up to the Combative Spells Division, and that's where I've been for the last 8 years. I am completely a non-combatant, so don't expect fancy wand-work or elaborate demonstrations from me. I am very familiar with nearly every offensive and defensive spell there is, so long as I can cast it or teach it in a controlled setting, such as my lab or this classroom. We will NOT be practicing dueling in this class. So. That's my basic experience in a nutshell."  
  
She clasped her hands together as she spoke, to attempt to calm their trembling. This had to get better... didn't it?  
  
"How does this affect or benefit you? Well... most of our magical education is just on learning to do the spells. We learn how to do the spells, and with practice we get them to do what they are supposed to do. But HOW do they work? WHY do they work? Most of us are satisfied with the standard answer: 'Because it's magic, that's why'."  
  
The students were listening politely, so far, so that was something in her favor. She leaned back against her desk, hoping to finish explaining the 'boring' stuff before she lost their attention completely. She really wanted to get to some wand work right away!  
  
"In researching new spells, we find that there are actually components to magic. Some of those components we can change and affect, and some we just have to learn to live with. By learning what those components are, you can learn to enhance your own magic. I'm going to outline the basic components here on the board for you, and then we're going to do some spell work today to actually demonstrate the differences."  
  
She moved over to the chalkboard and waved her wand at it, so that the words came up on the board as she spoke. And now she found that discussing the subject with which she was most familiar—with her back to the students so she didn't have to face them directly—helped her nervousness begin to fade. This was her love, her passion, and it showed in her voice as she relaxed.  
  
"All of the components of magic fall into one of four broad categories. INTENTION, MECHANICS, EMOTION and INNATE ABILITY" she said, reading the words she had conjured onto the chalkboard.  
  
"INTENTION is precisely what it sounds like—what is the intent of your spell? Have you ever been asked to clean your room when what you really wanted to do was go outside and ride your broom? You know from that experience that even if you perform the wand movement and incantation perfectly, the spell flops unless you are focusing your INTENTION on what you want the spell to do.  
  
"MECHANICS includes your wand movement, incantation, pronunciation and also includes having the correct components for potions--all of this falls under the mechanics of magic. This is pretty self-explanatory. Some pretty unique and sometimes explosive things can happen if your mechanics are off when you are doing spell work.  
  
"EMOTION is a component that we are only just beginning to understand. It's most obvious in things like the Patronus Charm—one must have a vividly happy emotion upon which to focus in order to successfully produce a corporeal Patronus. The most powerful wizard in the world, with perfect intention and mechanics, could not produce a Patronus if he or she has no happy memories strong enough to fuel the charm. But we are also learning that this can have effects on other spells as well, and we'll be studying this at length in this class."  
  
She paused for breath here as she was writing on the board. She had a moment to fleetingly wonder if Severus had ever produced a Patronus. She didn't think she would ask... she thought she'd rather not know.  
  
"Finally, we have INNATE ABILITY. We are each born with a certain amount of magical 'power' if you will. Nothing we can do will change or alter our own magical power. We can learn to control other things to maximize what power we have, but we can't change it."  
  
She turned back to face the class again. The Ravenclaws were scribbling notes rapidly, as was Miss Granger. Most of the other students were merely listening with varying degrees of attentiveness on their faces, from true interest to barely concealed bored stupor. It was time to stop talking and start listening.  
  
"So. Does anyone have any questions or comments on any of this? Do you think it's bunk? Don't be shy to tell me your thoughts and opinions. One thing about Theory and Research—there really aren't any set right and wrong answers. Every new idea leads to new avenues of research."  
  
Hermoine's hand shot into the air, and Rowena nodded to her, "Miss Granger?"  
  
"When you talk about Intention—doesn't this apply to other things aside from magic? I seem to recall reading about an experiment in the Muggle field of Quantum Physics..."  
  
Draco Malfoy sniggered loudly, and Hermione trailed off in embarrassment, shooting him a venomous glance. Rowena however was looking at her encouragingly. She frowned at Draco.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, I will not tolerate students deriding each other in my class. I meant what I said about new ideas. Nothing is too strange or off-the- wall to be discussed. I will not warn you again. Please, Miss Granger, continue... I suspect you are on a very interesting point."  
  
Draco scowled at being reprimanded in front of the class, but Hermione blushed with pleasure.  
  
Hermione, given that encouragement, went into great detail about an obscure Quantum Physics experiment. It was quite complex, dealing with the properties of light and electrons and some of Einstein's work. The end hypothesis that made it especially fascinating is that it seemed to prove—scientifically--that the intention of the scientists involved had a measurable effect on their research.  
  
Now Hermione had the same glitter of excitement in her eyes that Rowena often felt when she was onto something that particularly intrigued her. So THIS Muggle-born girl and her thirst for knowledge is what Severus was referring to this morning...  
  
"Well done, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor for such in-depth research into your work. Don't worry, class. We won't be studying Quantum Physics here, but it is a highly valuable field of Muggle Science that I have frequent occasion to utilize. And Miss Granger is precisely right—there are numerous Muggle experiments that support the hypothesis that the intention of the scientist can affect the outcome of their work. It really is fascinating. Our thoughts can be very powerful things.  
  
"Does anyone else want to discuss something about the components of magic?"  
  
"Emotion can affect some shield spells and curses," said Harry Potter, in a rather bored and sullen voice.  
  
Rowena tried not to look pityingly at him. He would have personal experience with that, of course. He was surely unaware that he was the subject of much research in the Ministry. How he had survived the Curse? How had his mother saved him? Whenever their primary work stalled or diminished, several of her colleagues would join her in attempting to hash out the specifics of what had happened there, only finding more questions than answers. Love seemed in many ways to be the greatest mystery of them all...  
  
Drawing her attention back to his comment, she smiled and nodded, "Yes, there are many spells that can be strengthened by focusing the proper emotion. But most of them are naturally the combative spells. Who needs to get all emotional about fixing supper or cleaning the laundry? This is also the easiest component to manipulate when first studying these things, so we will be focusing on this one quite a bit.  
  
"Does anyone else wish to make a comment before we start practicing with some spells?"  
  
"Innate Power is something you are born with," drawled Draco Malfoy lazily, with the arrogant air of the Crown Prince surveying his subjects, "That's why the Pureblood Wizards are so much stronger than the Mudbloods. We have more magical essence to work with,"  
  
"That's a good point, Mr. Malfoy, and one that has been perpetuated within the magical community for many decades. However, you may not use that term in my class again—say Muggle-born if you have need to differentiate. And please be aware that research does not back-up your claim. There are many half-bloods and Muggle-born who have stronger innate talent than many Purebloods. In fact, there is some research to suggest that too much inbreeding is causing Purebloods to become weaker magically. I wouldn't rest on your Pureblood laurels too comfortably, if I were you."  
  
Draco scowled darkly at her, a look which gave her a slight chill. She ignored the sensation and went to the large cabinet in the back of the room.  
  
"I will be teaching you to research and modify your own spells in this class, eventually. But first I want you to become consciously aware of the different components of magic that we've talked about today."  
  
She began pulling out several large objects that vaguely resembled scarecrows on stands. Each was a rather tall, flesh-colored humanoid mannequin. The head was bald and smooth, with no facial features to speak of. They were dressed in tattered rags that must once have been robes, and they had flesh colored fingerless hands that could be made to hold a 'wand'.  
  
"These are research and training mannequins. Researchers and trainee Aurors alike need somewhere to practice their new spells without causing injury to others. We use lab animals extensively as well, of course, but these are far more effective. They are enchanted to show the physical effect of nearly any spell that has a visible result. Obviously things like the silencing charm would not be visible on the mannequin. They are quickly repaired with 'Reparo'.  
  
"For now, we are going to work with emotion. You will think of a curse or hex that you know that has a visible result, and perform it on your mannequin normally. You will observe the result and record it. Then you will repair your mannequin, and think of a strong emotion. I don't care what the emotion is, so long as it is very, very strong. Hate for an enemy, love for a parent, fear of something, whatever it may be. Once you feel you are in the grips of your emotion, cast the exact same spell again, and again observe and record the result.  
  
"I should have enough mannequins here for one for every two to three students. Oh, and the mannequins will melt if set on fire, so please repair them quickly if you use a flame-producing spell, or they will be damaged beyond repair."  
  
The students quickly complied, apparently curious and eager to do some spell work. They touched and prodded the mannequins, trying to ascertain what they were made out of as they talked amongst themselves about what spells they would use.  
  
Rowena walked among them and observed. Malfoy had carefully positioned his mannequin and was standing before it. She had set the mannequins against the classroom walls, so the students would be facing the mannequin and the wall to do their spells. Malfoy had moved it so HE was standing against the wall, facing the mannequin and looking out into the rest of the class.  
  
The hex he was aiming at the mannequin missed, and instead struck... Harry Potter. Harry had been sitting facing their mannequin waiting for Hermione to have her turn first, so his back had been towards Malfoy—he hadn't a chance to see the spell coming. In an instant, Harry's face was covered in large purple boils, and he was covering his face in pain. Hermoine had had her wand in hand, in preparation for her go at the Mannequin, and had reacted quickly with the counter-hex, so that he was almost immediately boil-free again.  
  
Rowena, however, was livid. She strode briskly to Malfoy, where he stood laughing with the other Slytherin Students in the class. She had no idea if he thought she hadn't seen what he had done, or if he thought she wouldn't care... but he was about to learn otherwise.  
  
"Draco Malfoy!" Her voice had a snap to it that which would have made Minerva beam with pride.  
  
He interrupted her while trying to suppress his laughter, before she could continue, "I'm very sorry, Professor. I seem to have missed."  
  
She drew herself up to her full—and not very impressive—height and pulled his wand out of his hand. "That was deliberate. You will not perform any more spells in my class today, Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin. And if I see you doing anything like that again, you will be serving detention."  
  
Pointing imperiously to a chair near the back wall, she continued, her voice tightly controlled, "Sit there and observe the other students. You will give me a three-foot-essay describing the effects of various emotions on various spells. I suggest you observe your fellow classmates closely, and hope they feel sorry enough for you to tell you what emotion they are feeling on their second go at their spell. See me after class for the return of your wand."  
  
She carefully pocketed the wand and walked to where Harry was standing with his friends. All three seemed to be trying to suppress their own smirks and laughter. "Are you injured, Mr. Potter? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"No. I'm fine," he said, with a stoically straight face.  
  
"Very well. Carry on."  
  
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She had only one other class that day, since she was teaching only half- time, and it flowed much more smoothly than the first. Draco played the part of the genuinely remorseful student when he retrieved his wand from her at the end of his class, though she didn't trust him in the least. It was apparently universal that new teachers were 'tested' by some one or other of their students to see how fair they will be, or how strict. She hoped she had 'passed' the test.  
  
Harry stopped by her office as she was leaving to go to lunch. He was looking even surlier than she had yet seen him, and didn't meet her eyes when he spoke to her, "I can't do Occlumency tonight, Professor Lupin. I have detention with Snape."  
  
"PROFESSOR Snape, Mr. Potter," she chided gently, "He gave you detention? Why?"  
  
"What does it matter?" he said angrily, "I have detention. I'm pickling rat brains until he decides I'm done."  
  
She stepped back inside her office and waited for him to follow, then closed the door behind them. She knew how Severus could be towards the boy, and so decided to overlook his rudeness for now.  
  
"It matters because I would like to know what happened. I might be able to have a word with him, but I'd like to know the facts."  
  
"The facts are Snape hates me. The facts are that Malfoy was ticked that you took points off him because of me. He dumped something in my cauldron that made my potion explode when I added my powdered salamander skin. There was a big mess, Snape blamed me, and I got detention," Harry blurted out with a snarl, "And there's no point 'talking' to him about it—he'll just get angrier and make my life worse!"  
  
Rowena sighed, "PROFESSOR Snape, Mr. Potter. I see. Well, let's just leave tonight's Occlumency open, okay? If he lets you out earlier than you expect, you can still come by. Otherwise we can do it tomorrow."  
  
"I have Quidditch practice tomorrow. I'm not missing that for some stupid extra lesson that won't make any difference anyway!"  
  
"Mr. Potter. I understand that you'd rather not be doing these lessons. And I am more than happy to work around your schedule. But I do insist that you be respectful," she chided him again, more sternly this time.  
  
Harry had the grace to look chagrined, but his jaw was still set rather mulishly. "Alright. Sorry. Well, Wednesday, then. There's no chance that PROFESSOR Snape will let me out of detention before dawn."  
  
Rowena smiled at him, and gave him a rather mischievous wink. "Don't underestimate the power of a woman, Potter. We'll wait and see."  
  
Harry looked at her suspiciously, but gave a small smile and a nod.  
  
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Severus was sitting at his tall worktable reading The Daily Prophet in his lab when she arrived. He didn't look up at her entrance, but said decisively, "He's doing the detention, Lupin."  
  
She grinned as she walked over to him. She stepped around behind him, placed her hands on his shoulders and began rubbing his back and neck. "So, did you give him detention because of our argument this morning, because I took ten points off of Malfoy or because you're torqued off that Dumbledore wants me to do his Occlumency?"  
  
He snorted and set the newspaper aside, turning to face her, "I gave him detention because a cauldron blew up in my classroom, making a huge mess and causing several minor injuries. HIS cauldron."  
  
"And you know as well as I do that Malfoy did it."  
  
"Indeed. And you know as well as I do that I have to give Malfoy a free ride in my class. You've made that worse, you know. By making an example of Draco in YOUR class, I have to work harder to prove my position with him in MINE. I'm supposed to be exerting some level of control and influence with you, not the other way around."  
  
Thoughtfully, she frowned. "I hadn't considered that. But I'm not going to let Malfoy rule my class—not for you, Dumbledore, You-Know-Who, anybody. I might be expected to maintain a ruse, but I am also expected to run a class."  
  
"Precisely. I do not expect you to change your teaching methods. Do not expect me to change mine."  
  
She sighed and nodded, "Alright, so give him the detention. But not tonight—he's supposed to do Occlumency with me."  
  
"Very well. I will change it to tomorrow," he said, raising an eyebrow challengingly.  
  
"He has Quidditch practice tomorrow."  
  
"Yes. That is why I chose tonight. I do consider these things you know. But if the Occlumency is so important to you, I am glad to make the change. He won't mind missing one Quidditch practice, I am sure. It would be a great benefit to my House for him to miss as many as possible," he said sardonically.  
  
"Severus, you are being difficult."  
  
"No. I am maintaining my role. If I get a small amount of sadistic satisfaction out of taking the arrogant Potter down a notch in the process, well... I am only human after all."  
  
Rowena sighed and shook her head, "He's not his father, Severus. Just like you aren't yours. Don't make Harry pay for James's crimes. It's not fair to either one of you."  
  
He frowned at her, "Do not throw that in my face again, Lupin. I bloody well know exactly who he is and what I have to do to prevent suspicion. Since you are now involved in this to the point of being in no small amount of danger yourself, I thought you might appreciate that a bit more."  
  
"Well, then give him the detention, make it something suitably unpleasant, but make it short. Run out of brains to pickle or something. He needs the Occlumency, Severus."  
  
"As well I know."  
  
She smiled at him, stepping closer and draping her hands around his neck where he sat facing her on the tall four-legged stool he used at his workbench. "You are the brilliant Potions Master, Slytherin Head of House, I'm sure you can think of a believable scenario where he could get out in time to do some Occlumency."  
  
He reached out and grabbed her waist with his hands, pulling her to stand rather suggestively between his knees, "You are attempting to distract me from the subject at hand, Lupin."  
  
She gave him an exaggeratedly coy look. "No. I am attempting to use my feminine wiles to get my way. What is my success?"  
  
He actually laughed at this, and kissed her soundly. "None at all. I am more than happy to taste of your 'feminine wiles', but he does the detention."  
  
"Hmmm. We'll see. I'm not done scheming of ways to get him out of it," she said, also laughing.  
  
"Rowena."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Shut up and let me kiss you properly, as I should have done yesterday."  
  
With a blissful sigh she melted against him as his lips found hers. She was vaguely aware of him waving his hand to shut the lab door, and then the arm wrapped around her again to caress her back, pulling her hips tightly against him.  
  
Teasingly he found her lips with feather-light kisses. She wound her fingers through his hair and tried to pull him to her, urging him to deepen the kiss. He gave her a rather feral grin and nibbled lightly at her lower lip, running his tongue teasingly along the sensitive flesh.  
  
He drank in her soft whimper of frustrated desire and pulled her tighter as he felt her tremble against him, her heart pounding against his chest. At last he yielded to her what she so desperately wanted, and delved his tongue passionately into her sweetly yearning mouth. Tongue caressed tongue as they kissed and tasted in an age-old ritual dance of sensuality. She leaned her body tightly against him, reveling in the feel of his warm strength. A thrilling stab of desire raked through her when she felt the evidence of HIS desire pressed against her, and she moaned against his lips again.  
  
"This is hardly appropriate behavior for two Professors to be fraternizing in such a way between classes," he finally said, teasingly. His own ragged breathing and the added depth to his voice belied any real reprimand in the words. He held her close to him, leaning his cheek against her soft hair, waiting until he had regained some control of his body.  
  
She laid her head against his chest, listening to his heart pound as rapidly as her own. She smiled contentedly, in spite of the frustrations of her body. "We are grown adults, and we aren't exposing ourselves to the students. I hardly think there's anything inappropriate here."  
  
He stood then, altering their positions somewhat by the change in height, though he didn't relinquish his hold on her. "Hmm. You may be correct in that. However, I would not like one of our colleagues to walk in on us in such a way. I have to admit, I had no idea that those work stools were such an... interesting height."  
  
He pressed himself briefly against her again, to illustrate his point, and then laughed lightly at her blush. The desire in her eyes was no less ardent than his, and he felt the need to kiss her lightly and step away.  
  
"I think it is time to proceed to lunch before we degenerate to something truly indecent, Lupin."  
  
She sighed in only semi-feigned disappointment and brushed his hair away from his eyes once more, "Very well. Lead the way. I haven't given up on that detention, you know."  
  
He smirked, "Indeed. I would be surprised if you had. But I appreciate the warning."  
  
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The aroma of pickling juices was thick in the air, almost eye-watering even from down the hall. No voices could be heard from inside the lab, though she knew Severus would be there, watching the boy like a hawk for any opportunity to criticize or ridicule. She smirked and held her finger tightly to her lips towards her companion, who nodded equally silently.  
  
The door was open—probably to prevent asphyxiation of the two inside the lab--the odor was nearly overpowering. Still she observed them silently for a moment. Harry was hunched over a huge cauldron near the back of the lab—he had obviously tried to put as much distance between himself and his irritable professor as possible. Periodically he fished out a small rat brain from the huge vat with a large ladle. He would then examine it carefully, and if it passed his scrutiny it was placed it in a small phial and carefully sealed. Severus seemed to be taking inventory of sorts, striding back and forth between tall store cabinets, clipboard in hand, occasionally scratching on it with his quill.  
  
Rowena stepped lightly into the lab and adopted her most cheerful, unconcerned voice. "Oh, Severus. I was looking for you. I thought I might find you here. Hello, Mr. Potter. Nearly ready for your Occlumency, are you?"  
  
Severus looked up and frowned at her darkly, "You knew you would find me here, Lupin, as it is necessary to baby-sit Potter whenever there is a cauldron involved. He will not be available for Occlumency tonight, as well you know."  
  
She raised her eyebrow playfully, and asked archly, "Oh, really? Are you sure about that?"  
  
A small figure that might have been a house elf streaked through the door at that moment, squealing in high-pitched tones that were incomprehensible to two of the three people in the room. All that was heard for certain was a name, "Severus! Severus! Severus!"  
  
Katrina had flung herself into his arms before he could fully register her presence, though he caught her deftly, laying the clipboard and quill aside as he hugged her in greeting.  
  
She was beaming brightly and chattering to him in rapid German, stopping periodically only to hug him briefly and then resume her happy chatter. She was so obviously ecstatic to see him that she was nearly laughing and crying at the same time.  
  
Severus tried to get a word of his own fluent German in edgewise, but the child apparently had too much to say after nearly ten days absence, and at last he gave up the effort. Looking over the child's head, he scowled at Rowena, who had just shut the lab door.  
  
"Low blow, Lupin," he muttered darkly, though his delight at seeing the child was difficult for even him to conceal, and he did not succeed in fooling her.  
  
She merely grinned unconcernedly, and placed a large basket on his workbench, "It turns out that Molly had some business she needed to do tonight, and wondered if Katrina could come and spend the evening with me. Well, of course I was delighted to have her.  
  
"But she's missed you so much, she wouldn't stop begging to come and see you. So. I thought that I could have Harry while you two catch up. She's brought a whole basket full of games she wants you to play, books she wants you to read, and pictures she's drawn for you that she won't let me look at."  
  
She stood, smiling innocently at him, watching his jaw muscle work in irritation.  
  
"Potter has to finish his detention. We discussed this earlier," he said in the silken tones he only used when he was truly angry.  
  
"Of course he does. That's why I've shut and sealed all my doors, and just did your lab door as well. What are the terms of his detention?"  
  
Severus raised a brow at her, "He is done when all the brains are pickled and stored, and he may not use magic to do it."  
  
She nodded and went over to the cauldron where Harry was working, peering inside. "HE may not use magic? Perfect. Harry, how long have you been at it?"  
  
"Two hours," he said from behind his cauldron, where he was obviously trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, though his curiosity had him listening to the exchange with rapt attention.  
  
"Well, I think that we can all agree that two hours is punishment enough for a crime that the three of us know you didn't commit to begin with, right?"  
  
Before either male could respond to her comment, she had produced her wand, and with a wave stored all the rest of the brains neatly in the empty phials stacked next to the cauldron. She then casually stuck her wand back in her robes and walked over to Katrina and Severus—the later of whom was looking completely outraged.  
  
"This solves all," she said, cheerfully dusting her hands in a 'task is done' manner, "The brains are pickled, and HE did not use magic to do it. I'll take him through the private doors to my office for the Occlumency. No one need ever know that he didn't toil away down here all night with those brains. And you get to spend a lovely evening with Katrina, who has missed you desperately just as you've missed her. I'll bring him back here when we're done so he can leave through the proper door, and no one will be the wiser."  
  
"I am going to be speaking to Dumbledore in the morning about you, Lupin," Severus growled.  
  
"Oh? Going to have me sacked?" she asked, smiling innocently.  
  
"No. I am going to see if there is a procedure in place for transferring school Houses after graduation. That Sorting Hat had no business placing you anywhere but Slytherin. I am not pleased about being manipulated, but I can't find fault in your logic, nor your methods.  
  
"Take him and go then," he said with annoyance.  
  
She smiled at him as she hugged and kissed Katrina, "You have fun, okay?" The little girl nodded and laid her head against Severus's chest, as he continued to absent-mindedly stroke her hair.  
  
She thought briefly of kissing him as well... but her common sense won over. He had not descended to rage over her machinations, but she doubted he would tolerate such a display of affection in front of Potter. His fathomless black eyes bored into her, inscrutable as always, but the tell- tale jaw muscle twitched. She decided she had tested his limits quite far enough for one day.  
  
"Don't be angry with me, Severus. You needed to see her as much as she needed to see you."  
  
"Just go, Lupin," he growled again, "And Potter—if word of any of this finds its way ANYWHERE, including Weasley and Granger—you will be extracting the brains before pickling them. This requires carefully killing the rat during the new moon by stopping its heart between beats with the poisoned needle of a Knarl. I go through many, many pickled rat brains in the course of a year. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Harry had been standing silently this whole time, though he had picked up his bag in case he needed to run in a hurry, and also had his wand firmly in hand. He met Snape's eyes, and expected to find them scowling with the pure hatred that he usually saw there. The anger and threat were there, without question. But it was hard to find him completely terrifying when he was playing gently with the golden curls of the tiny girl on his lap, unconsciously rocking her tenderly.  
  
Ron had told him about Snape's interaction with the girl, and he had seen the child himself the last couple of days of the Holiday. But he had never believed a word of the stuff about Snape being affectionate with the child!  
  
He found his way out of his shocked disbelief to nod his head stiffly. "Of course, Professor; not a word."  
  
Rowena led him to a tall shelf on the back wall of the lab and spoke a password that he didn't quite hear. "This way, Mr. Potter. We'll be in my office in a minute."  
  
Harry followed her quickly, without another word. His most hated Professor had already ceased to regard their presence, as he was talking softly in a foreign language to the child on his lap, who conversed animatedly with him in return. Their voices were lost when the wall slid shut behind them and he had time to muse on what he had seen as he trailed after his favorite Professor's sister.  
  
=================  
  
A/N: I'm sorry if the class stuff is too boring. I won't be writing much more class stuff in this sort of detail in the future, but I needed some background material.  
  
Occlumency will be next—I intended to do it in this chapter, but it simply got too long. And I'm still debating with myself how angry Snape will be over Rowena's machinations to get Harry freed for Occlumency.  
  
I agree totally with my reviewer on fanfiction.net who says that she finds it a stretch to believe that our beloved Severus is still a virgin at the age of 37. But I couldn't resist the sweetness of it. The poor guy's had such a hard life—I had to give him one 'perfect' thing. You will just have to suspend belief for this story.  
  
Here's my rationale for this little bit of Alternate Universe: He never sunk to the depths of rape, and didn't want to be snagged into marriage for his 'bloodlines' so he avoided the advances of the willing as well, including the typical Death Eater Orgy business. Sorry if you're finding that too much of a stretch.  
  
This much satisfies my own fantasy. When they at last get together heaven and earth will sing in the sweet perfection of it! That's my story, this time around, and I'm sticking to it. /wink/  
  
As always, I appreciate your reviews and comments. The more specific, even if critical, the better. I desperately want to improve, as well as have fun writing. Please recommend my story to others if you liked it! Please tell me if you didn't.  
  
Thanks, next chapter soon. Happy reading.  
  
Lisa/aka Shanti 


	18. Chapter 18: Murky Waters, Shaky Ground

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
Thank you to my beta, Elaine!  
  
Occlumency with Harry.

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Chapter 18: Murky Waters, Shaky Ground

* * *

Rowena led Harry to the small seating area by her fireplace in her office. She sat comfortably in one of the plush chairs and conjured hot tea. As she poured for both of them, she looked at him appraisingly.  
  
Harry Potter was a tall, lanky, teenage boy with the sour attitude that often accompanies the teen years. Rowena had fought the urge to dislike him instantly, when she first saw him at the Memorial in June, simply due to his striking resemblance to his father. But the truth of the matter was that he had none of James's flamboyant arrogance. Instead he was angry, sarcastic and bitter. Harry sat silently brooding, slumped in the other plush chair, arms folded aggressively across his chest, plainly in no hurry to open any conversation. Nor did he touch the teacup in front of him. She sipped her tea a moment contemplatively, trying to think of a way to reach this sullen boy.  
  
It was his volatile emotions that made Albus ask her to teach his Occlumency. Harry needed to learn from someone that didn't inspire strong emotions in him by their mere presence.  
  
This would be a harder task than she originally thought. At this particular moment, Harry had a chip the size of a dragon on his shoulder and a bitter sneer on his face that Severus would not have been ashamed to wear himself. Rowena had a sudden realization that there were many similarities between those two: Harry Potter and Severus Snape, though she was quite certain the comparison would not be appreciated by either, no matter how apt.  
  
"Harry, you know why you are here. I know you had some rather unpleasant experiences with Occlumency last year. We're going to try and sort of forget about that and start fresh today," she said at last, setting her cup on the coffee table.  
  
"You may call me Rowena or Miss Lupin here, whatever you feel more comfortable with. I don't really feel much like a "Professor" most of the time, and it seems rather formal considering the work we're going to do, don't you think?"  
  
From what she had seen and heard, he seemed to have serious difficulty with authority figures. Perhaps by not holding that over his head, he would lighten up a bit.  
  
His startling green eyes glanced at her uncertainly. He shrugged, "All right, Rowena, then."  
  
His voice was sullen, his tone defiant. "Snape didn't teach me anything. He just told me to clear my mind and then started casting spells at me, poking around in my brain, my private stuff."  
  
She sighed, trying not to feel immediately discouraged and antagonistic. But she wanted it clear that she wouldn't allow him to try and play her against Severus, regardless of her interventions in his favor to get him out of detention this evening. "PROFESSOR Snape, Harry. Yes, well I believe I heard something about you 'poking around' in his private things as well, so let's not go there."  
  
He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, "Well, that was sort of an accident."  
  
"An accident?" she asked, her brow rising in disbelief, "You accidentally fell into his Pensieve that you knew contained things he didn't want you to see? I think we had better not discuss that, Harry. It's between you and Professor Snape. I have no deep, dark secrets to hide, so your curiosity won't be piqued by me.  
  
"Now, first I am going to start by teaching you the Legilimens incantation and discipline."  
  
He looked up at her, surprised and suspicious, "What? Why?"  
  
"I'm a researcher, first and foremost, Harry. I learn things best by doing, seeing, experiencing whenever possible. So, that's how I am choosing to teach as well, in my class and here," she explained. "Legilimency is sort of 'the other side of the coin' if you will, to Occlumency. If you can see how Occlumency is supposed to work, from the 'other side', it might make it easier to learn."  
  
She then looked at him very sternly, "It's a N.E.W.T. level skill, Harry. But then so is Occlumency. I will be very severe in dealing out consequences if I find you using Legilimency anywhere but in these lessons. It can be very dangerous when it's unrefined. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes," he said shortly, though he had an air of curiosity now that she found encouraging. At least he was listening more attentively.  
  
She nodded then, "Good. Now, you merely use your wand as the focus in Legilimency. A truly accomplished Legilimens, like You-Know-Who, and Professor Dumbledore can use this discipline to some effect without wand or incantation..."  
  
"And Snape," interrupted Harry.  
  
"... PROFESSOR Snape, Harry. And yes, he can do it as well. The wand and incantation adds strength and control to the discipline for them; or makes it possible at all for you and me."  
  
She withdrew her wand, and felt a pang when Harry stiffened suspiciously, as though he expected her to hex him on the spot. She aimed it towards the wall, demonstrating the wand movement and incantation into the air.  
  
"You aim your wand at your intended target. If you are seeking specific information, you concentrate your intention on that information. You then say the incantation, like so...Legilimens. The actual mechanics are fairly simple. It's refining the technique that is difficult. Any questions?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, the sullen tones still heavy in his voice, "Does Professor Dumbledore know you are teaching me this?"  
  
"Hmmm," she frowned slightly and shrugged. She decided to overlook his cheeky attitude for the present, though it took heroic effort to do so. "I doubt there's much that goes on around here that he doesn't know about. But no, I didn't specifically tell him this was the method I was going to use. You are a sixth-year student, Harry, and quite advanced in your Defense Against the Dark Arts skills from what I hear. There is nothing inappropriate about teaching you this."  
  
He still seemed slightly suspicious, but nodded. She practiced the wand movement and incantation with him a few times until she was confident he had it correct before continuing.  
  
"Alright," she said at last, "now you are going to use the Legilimens incantation on me. We will do this with and without my Occlumency in use, so you can see the difference and see what it is supposed to do."  
  
She turned her chair so it was facing his more directly. "I'm not using my Occlumency now, go ahead and try it and see what happens."  
  
He gave a sullen shrug and a half-hearted wave of his wand, "Legilimens."  
  
In spite of his rather dilatory attempt, it was successful. Her mind whirled in a kaleidoscope of memories, though he made somewhat clumsy attempts to focus on images that he recognized. After a few minutes, she waved her own wand, "Protego" and the shield spell ended his connection.  
  
He was frowning at her even more suspiciously now. "You knew my mum, too, as well as my dad. And you really didn't like my dad, or Sirius."  
  
He didn't delve into specifics. He wasn't certain exactly what he had seen; the images had been so random and confusing. However, he had seen undeniable evidence that she fancied Snape, and to say that he was disgusted would be an understatement.  
  
"Yes," she confirmed, and then immediately continued, trying not to let him get off the subject at hand. "Now, do you see how the information was all jumbled up? Just lots of confused and distorted flashes of images and emotions, right?  
  
"If I had maintained the connection, and if you had the discipline, you could have used your will to sort through my thoughts to find specific information. That's very difficult, and very taxing to both parties. It's possible to cause very serious damage to someone by forcibly sorting through his or her thoughts like that. It's because of that danger that I warned you against using Legilimency anywhere but in our lessons.  
  
"Now, I have raised my Occlumency. Try again so you can see the difference."  
  
He shook his head mulishly and said, "I want to talk about my parents and Sirius."  
  
"Not now, Harry. It's important not to get your emotions riled up while we're doing this work. I'll be glad to talk to you about them later," she said firmly, "Please repeat your incantation."  
  
He frowned, still sullen, but to her surprise he didn't refuse. In fact, now he seemed interested in the attempt. His focus was better, and the power behind the spell was stronger, "Legilimens". He focused for several long minutes, even repeating the incantation, but it was obvious from the look on his face that he could 'see' nothing.  
  
When she stopped the connection, she was slightly pale and actually perspiring somewhat. He was stronger than she had anticipated, and she was not particularly powerful in general, nor especially skilled in this discipline. It took more effort than she had expected to keep him out. "What did you feel, Harry?"  
  
"Nothing," he said, "Like trying to break through a wall or something."  
  
"Exactly!" She said eagerly, "Now, try one more time. This time, I am going to show you where we want you to get with your own discipline eventually. I will be using my Occlumency, but also very deliberately allowing only specific thoughts to come to the surface. This is tricky, and honestly I'm not very good at it. It's possible that you'll break through altogether eventually. But you should get the idea."  
  
This time he was totally focused and intrigued. "Legilimens."  
  
After a few short moments, she broke the connection. She had carefully tried to show him the few images she had of Remus, James and Black that did not have strong negative emotions for her. Those were very few indeed. They both were sweating lightly now.  
  
"Very good, Harry," she said, slightly winded as though she had been running, "I barely managed to keep you out."  
  
"But I wasn't out," he contradicted her, "I saw Professor Lupin, and my dad, and Sirius..."  
  
"Yes, but you saw what I put there for you to see," she explained, "Did you feel the resistance? When you tried to follow a memory deeper, such as with James, you could only go so far and it changed?"  
  
"Yeah... I wanted to find my mum, but I couldn't."  
  
"Right. So that is Occlumency. Think of it as... hmm, what would be a good analogy," she cast about for a good comparison before continuing.  
  
"How about this: your mind is like a pond, a lake, where the water is your thoughts, feelings and ideas. Occlumency is like ice over that lake in the winter. We want that ice to be thick and firm so that nothing can break through it. But eventually you will have total control over that ice. You will be able to lay thoughts on the surface of it, so that no one but you will know what is concealed, or even that you are concealing anything."  
  
He was still regarding her, and seemed to be genuinely thinking about what she was saying. He nodded in apparent understanding.  
  
"It will take a lot of practice, Harry. But you do have the strength for it," she said encouragingly, "Not every method works for everyone. I know that Severus was having you work on clearing your mind of emotions. That's his technique, and serves him well. Not everyone can do that. I certainly can't.  
  
"Instead, I use my emotions to make the "ice" that is my Occlumency shield," she explained, "The result is the same—I can hide my true emotions when I'm using my Occlumency, but I use my emotions as my strength to form the shield. Does that make sense? It's another way we can use our Intention, our thoughts to control something, like we talked about today in class."  
  
He frowned, "That sounds kind of like what my Mum did... when she... that made Voldemort's spell bounce back at him..."  
  
Rowena couldn't suppress a shudder at the Name, but did her best to conceal her discomfort as she continued their discussion.  
  
"Yes, Harry," she said, agreeably. "Very similar; your Mother's love saved you, shielded you. Now, you have to find something inside of yourself to shield your mind. For some people it's love. Some use a pure absence of emotion. For others, they use other emotions or sheer force of will to create their shield. You have to find your own method that will work for you, your own strength.  
  
"So, now, I want you to think about sealing your mind. Don't worry about putting anything on the surface. And don't worry about fighting back or casting any counter spells. Right now, just think about closing your mind completely. When you are ready, I will attempt to break through."  
  
His face screwed up in concentration for several long moments. At last, it suddenly became calm and expressionless. "I think I'm ready...."  
  
She nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Legilimens."  
  
She broke through, but it took some effort on her part. He held her out for nearly 20 seconds. She withdrew immediately, before seeing even a brief glimpse of his thoughts. This was not the time to teach him to repel someone once they were through. They could address that later. For now she merely wanted him to develop a shield. She grinned at him, and he was actually grinning lightly back.  
  
"You did it, Harry. Good job! That's exactly the technique. Now we just have to practice to make it stronger. Once it's stronger, we'll work on other aspects of it; things like being able to maintain the shield and do other activities simultaneously."  
  
"That was easier than I thought it would be, once you told me how to do it," he admitted, but there was a bitter edge to his tone, "Why didn't Sn.. Professor Snape explain it right at first?"  
  
She sighed and shook her head, "Harry, everyone has different teaching and learning methods. You and Professor Snape have more issues there than I even want to think about. That's why I'm teaching you this year.  
  
"Are you feeling up to another go? You can try different methods of shielding your mind to see what works best for you. I don't want you to get over-tired, though. So you decide when you've had enough for today."  
  
They practiced for nearly half an hour. Twenty seconds was the longest he repelled her, but it took him less and less time to establish his shield with each attempt.  
  
"You practice what we've done here today," Rowena said when they both decided they'd had enough, "and let's meet at least once a week to work on it. I want you to try to consciously shield your mind before you go to sleep at night. My time is very flexible. I will gladly work with your schedule to meet as often as you have time."  
  
"Okay. I might be able to come again later this week," Harry said, with an air of eagerness she hadn't expected.  
  
He looked at her a bit uncertainly and asked, "Rowena... can I ask you... about my parents?"  
  
Oh boy. She would really rather not damage the rather tenuous rapport they had only just developed. But wouldn't he be equally upset if she refused? With a sigh she nodded, "Certainly, Harry. But you should know that I wasn't in their house—I was a Ravenclaw. I was four years younger than they were, so I didn't know them very well."  
  
"And you didn't like them very much," he supplied.  
  
She gave him a rather wry smile, "Well, I didn't have anything against your mother. She was very nice, always—to everyone. I was devilishly jealous of her because she was extremely pretty, but she was never snobby with it or anything."  
  
"But my dad?" he asked, eyeing her closely.  
  
"Oh, Harry. We were kids. Some kids just don't like other kids, you know? I was timid and shy. James was loud and flamboyant."  
  
"You mean he was an arrogant jerk. That's what Sn... Professor Snape says," Harry said challengingly.  
  
She poured herself some more tea to give herself time to think. Honesty was important, but she didn't want to cause Harry any more pain.  
  
"James was very popular, Harry. It's hard for a boy at that age to be that popular and not be a bit conceited," she said, silently congratulating herself for her diplomacy.  
  
"He wasn't popular with everyone. Professor Lupin and Sirius told me last year that he used to go around jinxing people in the halls for no good reason," he said.  
  
She actually grinned, "Well, okay. There was that. I think I would be hard pressed to guess who spent more time in detention for things like that—James or Black. But they never really hurt... well, hardly ever hurt anyone."  
  
Except Severus, of course.  
  
Harry pounced on what she had said, glaring slightly "How come you call Sirius 'Black' instead of saying his name? You hated him even more than my dad, didn't you?"  
  
"Harry, I don't think we should continue this any more tonight," she said suddenly, and with an air of finality. "Your mother was a very smart and beautiful girl who was every bit as sweet and kind as she was pretty. Your dad was an extremely smart and popular boy. Black... he was smart and popular, too, but... well, I really didn't like him. There's a lot of past stuff there that you just don't need to worry about. It's in the past."  
  
Surprisingly, he seemed to accept that she wasn't going to talk about it anymore. He picked up his bag and she led him back through the private doors to Snape's lab.  
  
Harry was relieved that Snape wasn't in his lab, though his voice could be heard coming from the direction of his office and he could hear the little girl laughing. He didn't want to risk any more of Snape's wrath for one day, and quickly exited through the public door.  
  
"Goodnight, Rowena," he called over his shoulder as he left.  
  
"Goodnight, Harry," she returned, as she headed through the office towards the sound of happy laughter.

* * *

Severus was singing to Katrina. Yes, Severus Snape was SINGING, in German. It must have been some sort of children's song, and apparently a humorous one, as it had Katrina in gales of laughter. She was sitting on his lap clapping in time to his song as he bounced her on his knees, her golden curls springing exuberantly.  
  
His baritone was deep and rich as it flowed smoothly over the lyrics. His face was more relaxed than she had ever seen it, not a rigid mask of tightly controlled stoicism, but a soft look of peaceful contentedness. He was even smiling slightly at the child. Rowena stood silently in the doorway, enchanted by the picturesque.  
  
He looked up and saw her standing there when his song ended, and he raised a brow archly.  
  
"So, the Honorary Slytherin returns to face the consequences of her manipulations and deceptions," he said, sardonically, though the relaxed expression remained.  
  
She entered the room fully then, feeling braver once she was certain he wasn't going to rage at her—at least not in Katrina's presence. She grinned at him as she stepped over to hug and kiss the child.  
  
"Of course I returned. Haven't you heard already? Thanks to your behavior at the feast and at breakfast, with all the rumors that resulted—the entire school is depending on me to tame the vicious Dragon that is Severus Snape. I can't let them down now, can I?"  
  
He actually laughed gently at this... a true laugh, not a sarcastic one. "Indeed? No, I had not heard that yet. Had I heard such nonsense as recently as this past June, I would have said it couldn't be done. Though whether I would have said that before or after hexing the message-bearer into oblivion is debatable. But perhaps I might eventually have to concede the point that I just may be 'tamable' after all."  
  
His bottomless black eyes met hers as he spoke, and there was a hint of warmth there that she had never seen from him before. Her heart did an odd little skip to see it, and she felt her face blush. Sure, there were a lot of 'mights' and 'maybes' in that statement... but there was the hint of a stronger future, and she tucked it away carefully in her heart.  
  
Katrina climbed off his lap and ran to Rowena, insisting on being picked up at once, which she did. "Did you have a nice time, Katrina?"  
  
"Oh, yes. My Severus got me chocolate from the little people in the kitchens. There are elves, there, Rowena, real elves! And my Severus says that next time I visit, if I come in the daytime, he will have the big man in the forest show me a real unicorn!" The child chattered happily for several minutes, each sentence punctuated with "My Severus".  
  
Eventually Severus stood and took her from Rowena and picked up the basket that the child had brought with her. It seemed somehow full of more things than when she had arrived.  
  
"It is late, little one," he said warmly to Katrina. "We need to take you back to Molly's now so you can sleep. We will see you later this week."  
  
Rowena followed them out of his quarters, sealing doors behind them since his hands were full. They had decided to use the hearth in her lab for the floo connection to the Burrow, since he rarely lit the fires in his.  
  
Katrina had started to babble with him in German—her facial expressions and tone of voice, met by his firm tones—spoke of arguments. She clung tightly to him, wailing loudly when he tried to lay her in the bed. She obviously didn't want him to leave her. It required a great deal of firmness from him before she would allow herself to be tucked into bed. She pouted angrily and continued to sniffle. Severus seemed genuinely disturbed by her distress.  
  
Molly Weasley, however, was delighted at the child's display of temper. "Oh, Severus, you just don't understand what that means. She's been through so much she really wasn't acting like a normal three-year-old yet. That she feels secure enough with you to argue and fuss to try to get her way—well, that's a sign that she's healing. Trust me. It's wonderful for her to spend time with you. I know things are terribly busy, but feel free to drop in any time you like."  
  
Severus sat down at her kitchen table, to the surprise of both women, and looked at Molly piercingly as though sizing her up. Rowena recognized the "bored" look that always concealed the "something is bothering me" inner turmoil, but sat next to him silently, waiting to hear what he would say.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley, I'm not certain that it is in Katrina's best interest for me to continue to visit her. I would welcome your advice on the matter. Eventually a family will be found that can adopt her permanently. When that happens, if she has become attached to me, it will make the separation more difficult, will it not? I would not wish to cause her further distress."  
  
Rowena thought her heart might break in compassion. She knew how much those two had come to mean to each other, and the thought that they would be separated now was agonizing. How unfair to pull them apart when they were just learning to find some measure of healing together! She looked at Molly, desperately hoping that the woman—whom she had come to regard as the "universal mother"—would have words of wisdom that would solve everything.  
  
Molly's eyes flashed with her own sympathy and compassion for the man who was usually so dark and brooding. Instinctively she turned away so he wouldn't see it or mistake it for pity. Instead she provided them all with tea before she answered him.  
  
She sat on his other side and laid a comforting hand over his, which he surprisingly did not pull away.  
  
"It's 'Molly', dear," she said gently, "Severus, Katrina needs you right now. It could be months before a family is found, and in the meantime, she needs a chance to heal, to be a normal little girl with all that entails, including pouts and temper-tantrums.  
  
"I'm sure you could make provisions with whoever adopted her for visits. You could be sort of like an uncle if you wanted. She needs you, she needs consistency. I'm sure her Social Witch has taken that into consideration. You would be doing more harm than good if you tried to separate yourself from her now."  
  
Severus stared at her searchingly as she spoke, and she did not flinch from his gaze, her compassionate hazel eyes meeting fathomless black ones. He seemed at once to be comforted by her words, and to retreat back into his usual shell of stoicism. He turned over his hand that was still beneath Molly's, so that it became merely a handshake rather than a comforting gesture. He stood gracefully and bowed rather formally.  
  
"Thank you, Molly. That is reassuring. We will visit as often as we can, of course," he said.  
  
Rowena stood as well and hugged Molly warmly. There was something about a 'Molly Weasley Hug' that just left her feeling as though all would be right with the world. Silently then, she followed Severus through the floo, back to Hogwarts.

* * *

He followed her to her quarters and sat silently on her couch. She sat next to him and turned sideways so she could face him. But she was unsure of his mood so she didn't attempt to reach out to touch him, though she longed to do so.  
  
"Did Potter give his usual abysmal performance at Occlumency today?" he asked, rather conversationally.  
  
"No, he didn't. In fact, he was able to hold me out for nearly half a minute once he got the hang of it," she said, glad that he seemed inclined to overlook her manipulations of the evening.  
  
"Forgive me, Rowena," he said dryly, "but I am forced to assume that is more due to your lack of skill in Legilimency than his increased skill as an Occlumens. The boy swims in a sea of emotion that he can't possibly control. Rather he lets them control him."  
  
He laid an arm around her as he spoke, and began idly playing with her hair, wrapping a long strand around his fingers.  
  
"Indeed," she said, using one of his favorite words in a teasing mimicry of his usual sardonic tone, "However, I am not teaching him to clear his emotions from his mind. I am teaching him to use them as his shield. It's an effective technique for those of us who are too attached to our emotions to shove them aside completely."  
  
"An impure form of the discipline," he chided her. "It will be weak. He cannot afford weakness. I do not think you are doing him any favors teaching him shortcuts."  
  
"Not everything based in emotion is weak, Severus," she contradicted him. "His mother's love repelled the strongest spell known to wizards—that's not a display of weakness."  
  
He sighed, shaking his head. "Another circular argument you and I will not resolve. The point is he MUST learn Occlumency."  
  
"I think he will learn it," she countered, "You just need to give him a chance. He picked up on it really quickly this evening. He's going to practice and we'll work on it more later this week."  
  
Severus snorted derisively, "Do not count on him practicing anything. He is lazy and makes no effort. He is satisfied with shoddy work in everything he does."  
  
"No, Severus. He is a 16-year-old boy who lacks your brilliance and your ambition. Not everyone is driven to learn and do everything with precision and perfection. There is a difference," she said.  
  
He made another derisive sound in his throat, shook his head, and was silent. He looked so dark and stern, sitting there regarding her with his inscrutable, fathomless black eyes. Yet her shoulder and neck tingled pleasantly where his hand played with her hair and caressed her skin. Finally succumbing to her own desires, she leaned over and kissed him gently. She softly stroked the satiny flesh of his lower lip with her tongue, timidly tasting him. His tongue met hers in a soft caress that sent sparks of sensation through her so that she could not suppress a delicious shiver. The kiss was painfully brief, as he pulled back to look at her, a brow raised.  
  
"You are trying to distract me and change the subject as you did this afternoon," he admonished.  
  
"Mmmm, true. I failed miserably then. What is my progress now?" she asked against his lips, kissing him again.  
  
He returned the kiss gently, but did not allow it to become heated. His own thoughts and emotions were in turmoil as well, and he had no desire to increase that confusion at present. He was already struggling mightily to sort them out!  
  
"Adequate, I suppose," he answered in carefully controlled tones, wanting to seem unaffected by her kisses, "But I only drop the subject because I know Dumbledore has insisted that you teach the Occlumency. He doesn't think it is wise for me to spend unnecessary time with Potter."  
  
She frowned teasingly and leaned away, desisting in her attempts to kiss him further. "Only adequate? Well, I have fallen a few notches in your regard lately, haven't I? If you insist on discussing school then, may I ask you something?"  
  
He smirked at this. "You have not fallen a jot, and you know it."  
  
The problem was not that she had fallen in his regard... quite the opposite. These murky waters of emotion were unfamiliar to him in the extreme. He was desperate for firmer ground. "You may ask. I do not promise to answer. I know what you will ask."  
  
"That's a pretty confident statement," she exclaimed, laughingly.  
  
"You are going to ask me why Dumbledore does not grant me the Defense position," he stated, "You presume, correctly, that I know why he consistently chooses not to put me there."  
  
"Okay, then. Why don't you want to tell me?"  
  
He moved away from her slightly, though his arm remained gently around her shoulders. He became silent and contemplative.  
  
She gave him a look of extreme irritation and tapped one finger on his chest in frustration, "Oh, I get it. This is another one of those, 'If Rowena knows the truth, she might change her mind about me' things, isn't it? You really are a hard man to convince, Snape. Tell me or not, it doesn't matter. And it certainly changes nothing, either way, as to how I feel about you."  
  
He remained silent, regarding her. At last he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Very well. I apply each year because I know I would be the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this school has ever had. Why shouldn't I be? I know all the Dark Arts!  
  
"Dumbledore refuses me each year because he knows that the Dark Magic still calls to me, that I still feel its seduction and its false promises. He feels, possibly correctly, that the temptation to yield to it if I was working that closely with it would be too great.  
  
"He has two ostensible reasons. First that he could find no Potions Master to replace me that could come close to my skill level. Which is true, of course," he said without a hint of embarrassment or humility. "And second that I cannot produce a Patronus, which is a required skill in order to be able to teach it to the N.E.W.T. students."  
  
He fell silent again at this, thinking over the course of the evening... even the last few months. "I admit I haven't tried to do the Patronus in many years."  
  
Perhaps he might try again sometime soon, he thought to himself as he looked at Rowena, snuggled against his side as comfortably as though she had always belonged there. She, apparently, was thinking along the same lines. Her irritation with him had faded as he talked to her. She gave him a small smile and kissed him gently.  
  
"Well, maybe we could work on the Patronus," she said mischievously. "Surely that's the real reason? I mean, it's listed as a required skill for the job. I don't really think the dark magic bit has anything to do with it—do you? Dumbledore trusts you. He knows more than anyone else how much you endure to be of help to him."  
  
His body stiffened in irritation, even as he had pulled her closer to return her kiss. He valiantly tried not to lash out at her. Again she was displaying her blind trust in him, and still it grated. He knew he should be grateful for the gift of such trust...but he simply didn't deserve it! For once he determined not to respond angrily as he tried, yet again, to make her see just the kind of man he was.  
  
"You precious fool-why do you deliberately not want to understand?" he sighed, exasperatedly.  
  
"I still have all my Dark Magic books, Rowena. Every one. Every spell I created or learned from others. Every potion recipe. All of it. I keep them well concealed and locked, of course. But I face them every day. Every day I feel the call, the lure, the longing. It is not unlike what I feel for you in the height of my desire, though different... and perhaps if I evaluate it objectively, the yearning is not as strong as it once was," he admitted reluctantly.  
  
"Why do you keep them? Why not destroy them?" She was listening intently, interested and rapt, playing her fingers through his hair.  
  
He looked at her, incredulous. "Rowena, why are you still here? Why do you sit there and look at me like someone deserving of your time and attention after what I have told you, after all the things you know about me? I keep them because I love them! If I have any of that emotion inside of me, it is for those books, that magic. They saved me when I would have drowned in self-pity and wretchedness. They gave me power and revenge, knowledge and control."  
  
With heroic effort he resisted the urge to shake her, as though he could physically shake some sense into her.  
  
"If I so much as touched them again, I think I would be lost forever in their seduction. Sometimes I feel like it whispers to me... telling me that perhaps now, after all these years of resisting it and developing other strengths, I could be stronger than I was before. Maybe I could wield it and control it without letting it control me. Maybe I could be stronger than the Dark Lord himself."  
  
He sighed, tiredly. The self-disgust nearly dripped from every word as he spoke. "Don't you see how dangerous that is? How dangerous I am? I can't destroy them because I can't bear to even touch them, even if I could muster the strength of will to wish them destroyed."  
  
His eyes bored into hers, as though he could somehow make her understand by sheer force of will, imploring her silently to understand. "This is the kind of man you imagine yourself to be fond of, Rowena. You should not be here with me. You should not wish to be within miles of me. I don't know how to make you understand what I am."  
  
She sighed in mirrored frustration and snuggled closer against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I don't believe you to be nearly so power hungry or consumed by darkness as you believe you are, Severus. I think you are living with a past belief of yourself. I think you could face all those books and things and surprise yourself with how much they DON'T draw you anymore, and chuck them into the fire without a second thought."  
  
He pushed her away from him so he could look, disbelievingly into her eyes. He saw her honesty and total faith in him and shook his head in disgust. "Rowena, you willfully deceive yourself as to me. How can I take any of this seriously when you think I am something that I am not?"  
  
She smiled sadly and kissed him tenderly. "You can't, Severus. You can't take me seriously, you can't be serious about our relationship when you can't believe in or trust my feelings for you. And you can't do that if you believe them to be built on a false foundation. I don't know how to resolve this. One of us is seriously self-deceived as to your true nature. I don't believe I'm the one."  
  
He nodded and stood to leave. "You are right, Rowena. I need time to think about things. I have come to care for you greatly, but I dislike being on such shaky ground."  
  
He was left with no choice. He needed to—perish the thought—TALK to someone who could help him find clarity in his turmoil. And there was only one person in the world he trusted enough to discuss anything so personal and (in his opinion) distasteful.  
  
It was time to talk to Albus.  
  
He pulled her up to him and held her tightly for a moment. He then gazed deeply into her eyes, kissed her tenderly and left without another word. The kiss hinted strongly of 'good bye'.  
  
Rowena was not brave, nor especially powerful, nor did she have any spectacular or unusual talents or gifts. But one thing she did have was a stubbornly strong streak of sheer determination. Now that she had found him again, she had no intention of letting him get away that easily.

* * *

The muse just wasn't cooperating much this week. Next chapter will be less 'head' and 'angst' stuff and more action. We will have a brief visit with Albus. But the Death Eaters are active and soon we will see the consequences. Remus, Tonks, Moody and a serious attack combat coming up.  
  
If you like my story, please recommend it to others. If you don't, please tell me so I can improve! If you don't want to offer critiques on the public reviews, I always welcome emails. Happy reading! --Lisa 


	19. Chapter 19: Seeking Answers

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
Thank you to my Beta Elaine!  
  
Chapter 19: Seeking Answers  
  
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Darkness enshrouded him like a palpable thing. He stalked the corridors, black robes billowing behind him. The characteristic sneer was firmly upon his face, and he longed to find a student out of House after curfew upon whom to vent some of his irritation.  
  
Unfortunately for him, the hallways between Rowena Lupin's quarters and Albus Dumbledore's office were deserted. He snarled the password at the hideous gargoyle that guarded the entrance.  
  
"My, aren't we in a bright and cheery mood this evening?" the stone monster commented.  
  
"Shut up and move if you don't wish to be reduced to rubble, you worthless chunk of granite!" Snape barked, though the statue was already in motion.  
  
It was quite indignant at the apparent slight to it's... um... heritage? "Granite? GRANITE?!? Did you accuse me of being GRANITE!?! I'll have you know I come from the finest marble known to...."  
  
But the statue's tirade was lost as the spiral stairway began it's ascent, and Severus ignored it at any rate. There was little satisfaction to be gained by insulting a statue.  
  
Albus was not in his office. A new door was there that was not a normal feature, and Severus passed through this as well. It led to a small padded room with a sparse bed and firmly barred windows. A wild and sickly appearing woman lay rigidly on the bed. Albus and Poppy were both present, tending to her. Severus merely regarded her in disgust.  
  
"She's not well, Headmaster. I don't know how long we can keep her alive. Her mind is gone completely. St. Mungos really would be better for her. I just don't have the skills for this kind of illness," Poppy said worriedly, neither of them acknowledging Severus at the moment.  
  
Albus sighed and shook his head. "We'll just have to do the best we can, Poppy. There is too much risk. If we return her to St. Mungos, word would eventually leak of her presence. Nymphadora's life would be immediately forfeit. There's nowhere else that's completely secure where we can tend her. It will have to be here."  
  
"If she dies, Tonks will be found out immediately as well," Severus said from where he leaned against the door.  
  
They both looked at him questioningly, though neither appeared startled at his presence.  
  
"The Dark Lord will feel her death. When he does, and 'sees' Claire Lestrange alive, he will know she is an imposter. She must be monitored closely. If her death is imminent, word must be sent to Tonks so she can use her Portkey or she will be killed instantly."  
  
"There's nothing physically wrong with her that I can find," Poppy said in frustration, appealing to Severus, "she ought to be improving physically, even if her mind is gone. I don't understand it."  
  
Severus shrugged. "She is mad. She wishes to be returned to her Master. She grieves over the loss of her Dark Mark that connected her to him, and is anguished that she is the one who dug it out of her own flesh. She is quite insane, Poppy. Insanity can be just as fatal as any other illness. We'll just have to keep her alive as long as we can."  
  
He waved his wand and retrieved several potions bottles. "Strengthening draughts, healing draughts, and dreamless sleep potions. As long as she does not injure herself physically, her body should persist a while yet. The sleeping potions will be less harmful than paralyzing charms you're currently using, though I suppose you have to paralyze her to treat her."  
  
"Of course," Poppy said, affronted. "I don't generally go around hexing my patients, Severus. Thank you for the potions. I'm sure I can deal with this from here."  
  
And so saying, she chivvied both men out of the room.  
  
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Albus had been regarding Severus with grave concern ever since he entered the patient's room. Severus seldom deliberately sought him out, especially late in the evening, and he was concerned for the reason. Once the door to the concealed room had been closed and sealed, he turned his piercing gaze fully onto Severus.  
  
"Do I need to summon the Order?" he asked at once.  
  
Severus shook his head in disgust and retreated to the window seat that always managed to appear when he particularly wanted to avoid the Headmaster's searching gaze.  
  
"No, Albus. Unfortunately, my problem at the moment seems to be of a more... personal nature. Not something I'm willing to discuss with any other Order members, I assure you," he said dryly.  
  
Albus relaxed at once, and the amused twinkle found it's way into his eyes. There was so much worry and stress over horrific things these days. This was a pleasant diversion to say the least. He was pleased beyond words to think that this young man whom he had come to regard so highly was at last tasting a little of the pleasanter things in life, even if that tasting did have the poor boy in obvious turmoil.  
  
"Well, then, Severus. May I offer you a drink? How can I help you?" he asked.  
  
"Brandy. I do not know how to make Rowena Lupin realize that I am not worthy of her affections. I wish to release her from our charade at once, and for you to remove her from this school before she is seriously hurt. Put her at 12 Grimmauld with Remus for now. This is not working," he said, bluntly.  
  
Albus was silent as he walked over and provided Severus with a snifter containing a healthy measure of brandy. He then drew up a chair so that he was close to the window seat, gazing at his friend directly.  
  
"I think we must start with your basic premise. Rowena Lupin is fond of you, and you do not believe yourself worthy of that regard? Please elaborate for me. I would like specifics. What is it that makes you so unworthy?"  
  
Snape shot him a look of pure venom.  
  
"You of all people know exactly why I am so unworthy! Has recent stress made you as daft and foolish as Fudge wants everyone to believe?" he spat, cruelly. "Or perhaps you would like to hear me once again detail every crime I have ever committed, as I once did to you before?"  
  
Albus was implacably calm, listening. Severus sat staring out the window, trying to turn his body away from the older man as much as he could. He sipped his brandy in silence before he could continue. His voice had every drop of hateful, sarcastic bitterness he could squeeze into it.  
  
"I am a Death Eater. I am a Murderer. I have tortured people. I have poisoned people. Why do you BOTH insist on pretending that never happened??"  
  
He fell silent then, unable to articulate the self-loathing that filled him. His hands clenched tightly around the snifter and his body became rigid, as though he could physically pull his body into himself as much as he did his mind and emotions.  
  
"Are you ready for my answer, my friend?" Albus asked once Severus had sat stewing for several long minutes. Snape turned to look at him in disbelief. He plainly did not think there was an 'answer' to his problem, his questions and rantings. He remained silent, though, and Albus waved his wand.  
  
Two large file boxes appeared at his feet. One was black, the other white. Albus could be as subtle as anyone Severus knew. But he was also fond of obvious symbolism when demonstrations were needed.  
  
"Do you remember what I asked you to do, Severus, that night over 17 years ago when you came to me with your confession? When you nearly begged me to give you over to the Dementors at once? Do you recall?" he asked with the air of Professor to student.  
  
Snape answered in the same vein. His turmoil was such that any sense of normalcy was a welcome relief, even if it meant temporarily regressing to the student role. "Yes, Professor, you instructed me to write a detailed account of all my crimes. I was to give each victim his or her own page, provide names when possible, and head each page according to its crime—murder, poisoning, torture, etc."  
  
"And did you comply with that request?" the Professor asked his student.  
  
Oh yes, he had complied. He had poured his guilt onto those pages in horrific detail. Each word had felt as though he was engraving his own personal monument in Hell with the blood he'd shed.  
  
"Yes, sir, and I have continued to do so when my work for the Order has made it unavoidable for me to perform my duties as a Death Eater," Severus the student replied.  
  
"Very well," said Albus. "What you see here is a result of that work. The black box contains all of your 'crimes'. The white box is MY contribution. It details every life you've saved, every individual you've helped, every bit of torture you have endured personally in your work for the Order, every unrewarded deed you have done since your return.  
  
"I have thinned the boxes over the years. Every time you have saved a life, I have paired my page with one of yours detailing a person of matching gender and similar age, and burned both pages. A life saved for a life taken, do you see? The same for your other 'crimes'."  
  
"Albus...," Severus's voice began to rise in irritation, leaving his 'student' role once again, "It's not that simple, and you know it!"  
  
"Severus, do not interrupt me," Albus admonished firmly, his wise blue eyes peering mercilessly at the younger man. "True, it is not that simple. No amount of forgiveness bestowed on you by others can replace the need for you to find peace within yourself.  
  
"But you are the one who wants to quantify your guilt. I think that it might be a useful exercise to do precisely that. You prefer to analyze things as much as you can; to have physical evidence that can be weighed, measured, and carefully defined whenever possible. I know this about you, my friend. That is why I have kept careful track of these records all these years."  
  
He pushed the boxes across the floor towards Severus.  
  
"I want you to open those boxes now and see the accounting of your 'evil' deeds weighed against your redeeming ones," he said. It was not a request.  
  
Severus's body was a tense as a tightly coiled spring as he moved to comply. His black eyes glittered darkly as he regarded those boxes, black and white. The obvious symbolism did not amuse him. With a sigh of trepidation—he was not at all certain he wanted to see what was inside—he waved his wand so that both boxes opened simultaneously.  
  
The black one was empty, completely and utterly empty. The white one was more than half full. Even Severus in his bitter pessimism couldn't view it as 'half empty' as it stood next to the gaping void of the black box.  
  
Several silent moments passed as he stared at the two boxes in disbelief. Then he picked up some of the files from the white box for examination. He expected to see nonsense fluff. "Passed Neville Longbottom when he deserved failure" and "Carried trunks for Minerva", or the like.  
  
Instead they read exactly like the pages he had written... that he still wrote when necessary... agonizingly describing every detail.  
  
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LIFE SAVED: Allyson Smith.  
  
Age: 30, Gender: Female Bloodlines: Muggle Description: pregnant mother of two wizarding children, husband is a wizard.  
  
Rapid action in warning Order Aurors prevented the raiding and burning of the Smith home when Mr. Smith was away on business and Mrs. Smith was home alone with the children. Severe punishment received by Severus due to his being suspected source of 'leak'.  
  
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The box contained dozens of pages of similar documents. He could not refute the validity of a single one.  
  
He would never feel completely free of the guilt; never stop hearing the screams of his victims in the silence of the night. But somehow seeing solid evidence of the results of his attempts to somehow repay what he had done... it did offer something of comfort.  
  
He looked at Albus then, openly for an instant, and his anguished gaze met the compassionate one of his friend.  
  
"I can't erase your sorrow and remorse, Severus," Albus said gently. "I can't change the past, anymore than you can. I can offer you my heartfelt assurance, whatever it may be worth... I believe in you. I believe are completely worthy of every drop of Rowena's affections.  
  
"I'm keeping her here, of course," Albus continued in a lighter tone, "I need her research on the school shields. She is safer here. But I know that part of your request was simply out of your distress over the main issue."  
  
Albus stood and placed a hand on Severus's shoulder and smiled at him gently, "You deserve to live your life, son. It is time to begin healing."  
  
Severus could think of nothing to answer to that. He simply shook Albus's hand warmly and silently left the office, deep in thought.  
  
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The remainder of that week and all of the next passed in a blur. Severus had "Order Business" several evenings and the weekend, and Rowena did not inquire. She felt all the shame of her cowardice, but she really didn't want to know more than she 'needed' to know. Nothing of the Gryffindor nosiness in her!  
  
Harry came twice more for Occlumency the first week, and twice the second. Albus came during one session and expressed not only his approval that she had taught Harry Legilimency, but also his wish for Harry to strengthen that discipline as well. He apparently thought that Harry might have need of it, and that it would help improve Rowena's Occlumency in the process.  
  
None of them were fully aware of the deep suspicion Harry held towards all of them. Snape in particular, of course, but whatever was going on, Harry felt all three of them were involved. He had decided after last year that never again would the adults in his life keep him in the dark as they had done. He had avoided eye contact with Albus all summer, and Snape... well, he always avoided Snape if he could. They knew he was angry, hurting and distrustful. They didn't realize the extent.  
  
Harry had taken to avoiding his friends and his homework in favor of lurking near the potion's lab in his invisibility cloak.  
  
Severus was often in the lab brewing. Any spare time he could find, he devoted to either researching new potions or preparing needed healing and strengthening draughts. St. Mungos was seeing more injuries. Muggle deaths were beginning to occur with alarming frequency. His primary current Death Eater role was to 'tend' to 'Claire Lestrange'. He did at last succeed in persuading the Dark Lord to move her to the Malfoy Manner, and so her danger decreased.  
  
The school year prevented him being as closely involved with the Death Eaters other activities as he was during the summer, in any other capacity than treating 'Lestrange'. The Order now needed to rely more heavily on Tonks's information, filtered through Lupin as often as she could check in.  
  
Remus Lupin looked like hell, but Snape didn't care. He hadn't bothered to exchange a word with the werewolf since the night of the feast, and he suspected Rowena hadn't spoken with him either. When he came to collect his potion, Snape made him do it through the house elves. He had no desire to deal with the mutant.  
  
Rowena. Well, she was an entirely different problem. He had dealt with her by NOT dealing with her... trying to maintain his distance. He wasn't rude. In fact, he was painfully polite and played the role of attentiveness when they were at the staff table together for the sake of the students.  
  
But he avoided being alone with her, and she did not press the issue. He visited Katrina while Rowena was in Occlumency with Harry. She visited Katrina while he was away on 'business'. He was grateful to her that she was so readily willing to give him the space he needed to simply consider what he wanted to happen there.  
  
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Friday evening found him working in his lab, trying to finish an antidote that he believed would soon be needed. He actually hoped to go and find Rowena later, perhaps play a game of chess and just spend some time with her again. Wild dragons couldn't have dragged the admission from him, but he had missed her.  
  
A knock on his door roused him at once. He scowled darkly at the student entering his domain after his office hours, uninvited. Still... appearances must be maintained.  
  
"Yes, Draco, what is it?" he asked in his bored tones.  
  
The self-appointed Slytherin Prince drawled lazily, "I've just received a note from my parents, Professor. Mother wants me to tell you that she's low on her restorative potion. She wonders how soon you can supply her with more?"  
  
Snape's scowl darkened further, "I provided your mother with six-weeks worth of that potion barely more than three weeks ago, Draco. I did tell her that the ingredients would be hard to come by."  
  
"Yes, Professor," said Draco with a smirk. "But of course my Auntie needed some, and then they have an ill friend whom they thought would benefit. My father says to tell you that he would be delighted to help you...er... acquire your ingredients if you need assistance."  
  
Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. Bellatrix of course. And possibly they would have tried to supply some to 'Claire Lestrange'. The real Claire was a cousin of Bellatrix's husband after all. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. Bloody hell.  
  
"I do not require assistance, Draco. Tell your parents I will deliver the potion Sunday," he said in bored tones.  
  
Draco smirked and left the dungeon, and Severus sealed it. He was not possessed of a Magical Eye like Alastor Moody. He had no way of knowing that a certain invisibility-cloak-bedecked student was even now hunched in the corner of his lab, watching.  
  
Harry had spent much of the last month of the summer between the Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place. And he had spent much of that time finding devious ways to learn what exactly was going on around him. No more secrets. He'd had enough of that, and their consequences, last year. Not again!  
  
He had heard what had happened to Katrina. He was pretty sure he knew now what sort of potion it was that Narcissa wanted. Fred and George were involved in blocking shipments of some of the more questionable potions ingredients to Knockturn Alley. But they had told Harry that Snape was still to be given whatever ingredients he required, whenever he required them.  
  
And he had heard Draco bragging about how close his parents were to Snape, how easy it was for them to get things they needed from Snape because of their connections. If Snape had already made the potion once since Katrina had been rescued, he would have had to find a replacement for the blood.  
  
It was time to find out what it was that Snape was using as that replacement—if he was even using a replacement! Harry half-expected Snape to go and retrieve the child surreptitiously from her bed in the Burrow, and cut her vein or something while she slept.  
  
The truth was almost as horrific.  
  
As the blood flowed freely from Snape's own wrist held over his cauldron, Harry fought mightily not to be sick and reveal his presence. How long Snape allowed the cut to gush, he couldn't have said. But the increase in sickly pallor of Snape's face was plainly visible.  
  
His Uncle Vernon had talked about blood drives at work, but had never donated, not wanting to make himself 'all weak and tired'. Harry also knew that they did these drives only once every 8 weeks. Apparently it was unsafe to do it more frequently.  
  
Snape definitely allowed more than a pint of blood to flow into the cauldron. And it had been less than three weeks since he had last made the potion. Had he used his own blood that time as well?  
  
At last Snape finished and stored the potion into small phials. He carefully wrapped them and locked them inside his private store cabinet, sealing it with several wards.  
  
He then wearily made his way into his office where he literally flopped, very un-Snape-like into a chair, utterly exhausted. When Harry was certain he was sleeping—and not dead from his actions—he sneaked out the public door, very grateful he had paid close attention to the sealing charms Snape had used when he closed it.  
  
Okay, he hated Snape. But he wasn't going to just let the greasy git kill himself by making a potion for that Malfoy woman. As far as Harry was concerned, that would just be allowing himself to sink to Snape's level. Besides, the Order needed him to spy or whatever. And Harry hadn't finished trying to figure out why the prat hated him so much. This certainly gave him much to think about as he hurriedly made his way back to his dorms.  
  
Time to talk to Hermione and the Weasleys.  
  
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A/N: We will see more of Harry in future chapters. The next chapter is written and will be posted in a day or two. Death Eaters attack _______________. Come see who survives! How's that for a cliffhanger?  
  
I am so grateful for all the reviews—I can't tell you how much they make my day. Happy reading!  
  
Lisa/Shanti 


	20. Chapter 20: Fiery Assault

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description. Important but longish A/N at the end of this chapter. Thank you.  
  
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Chapter 20: Fiery Assault  
  
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It was late Saturday evening before Severus had the chance to see Rowena privately. It was nearly two weeks since he had last been alone with her. Even so, this was an accidental encounter. It was a fine, clear early fall evening, and the moon was quite full. She was heading outside when he spotted her.  
  
"Lupin, where are you going at this hour?" he demanded rather harshly.  
  
She turned and looked at him, her hair down at present, loose and flowing. She raised a brow challengingly, "I'm just going for a walk on the grounds for a bit. Is that a problem?"  
  
He sighed, "Rowena, you shouldn't be wandering around on your own. You know about the rat..."  
  
Instead of arguing with him as he expected her to do, she smiled brightly and took his hand. "Why yes, Professor Snape, I would love to have company as I go for my evening walk—how very gallant of you to offer."  
  
He snorted in disgust, but allowed himself to be drawn outdoors. She tucked her hand into his arm and headed towards the path around the lake.  
  
"The point of this excursion, Lupin?" he asked dryly.  
  
"The point is exercise, fresh air and pleasant company," she said, with playful sarcasm, "but apparently I have to settle for two out of three."  
  
He smirked at her, "Indeed. Do not look to me for pleasant company."  
  
She was about to tease him further when the moonlight revealed a dark shape streaking across the grounds towards them at very great speed. Severus knew what it was before she did and pushed her behind him. He had his Dark Wand drawn and leveled in an instant, the words falling easily from his lips, "Avada Keda..."  
  
"NO!" Rowena screamed and grabbed his arm so that he was unable to complete the incantation. "It's Remus!"  
  
There was no time to argue the point. The werewolf was nearly upon them. She had to be only guessing its identity—he knew full well she had never seen her brother in his lycanthropy form.  
  
He still held his wand at the ready, shaking his arm free of her grip. If Remus Lupin was indeed stalking the grounds as a werewolf, it was quite possible he hadn't taken his potion. It had happened before. He was fully prepared to kill the monster before allowing it to attack.  
  
But the beast stopped a few feet away. Well, that seemed to confirm her guess. It had to be Remus, and his mind had to be clear. In any other scenario it would be attacking them already.  
  
The creature's eyes looked wild and panicked, and it was prancing restlessly, growling and whining. Rowena clutched Severus's arm again, trembling.  
  
"Something's wrong, Severus. Will your Legilimency work on him in this form? We need to know what's going on," her voice was high-pitched and frightened.  
  
Severus thought of refusing. He had no burning desire to see inside the thoughts of this particular individual for any reason. But Lupin was the link to Tonks. There could indeed be something that needed to be communicated. He brought his wand to bear on the monster, and it did not flinch away.  
  
"Legilimens," he said.  
  
Seconds later he swore more violently than she had ever heard, his voice choked. Grabbing her arm in a tight grip he began to run back towards the castle. She followed quickly, her heart pounding in fear of the unknown—she only knew it had to be something terrible to have Severus so visibly shaken. The werewolf had already torn off ahead.  
  
As they ran, Severus reached into his pocket for a small key-shaped item that glowed when he touched it. He spoke to the object, but his hand was shaking violently, as was his voice. "Order emergency... The Burrow is under attack."  
  
Sweet Heavens Above... the Burrow..... KATRINA!!  
  
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Albus met them as they flew through the main doors, and all three of them ran to Rowena's lab. The floo would be the fastest way to get there from here. Minerva came running from a side hallway. Severus was the first to the floo, throwing in the powder with violent energy.  
  
"The Burrow," he nearly shouted... but nothing happened.  
  
Rowena cried out in fear... if the connection was broken it was because there was no fireplace on the other side to receive them. Severus looked no less anguished, but he was still bent on action.  
  
They had no way of knowing the situation—no way of being certain of a safe Portkey location. Apparition was the only other option. He grabbed her hand again, and they raced out of the building, bent on reaching Hogsmeade where they could Apparate.  
  
Hagrid was just entering the castle as they were again running out of it. Albus stopped to speak with him and issue instructions. Severus ignored him completely, nearly dragging Rowena as they ran out onto the grounds.  
  
They had only made it a short way across the main lawns when a figure swooped down on them from above and a few yards ahead. It dismounted a broomstick and ran over to intercept them. It was Harry Potter—on his Firebolt.  
  
"Here—take this—it'll get you out of the grounds faster," the boy shouted as he ran to keep pace with them. The tell-tale glimmer of an invisibility cloak peaked out of a pocket.  
  
"Potter... how... what..." Snape tried to articulate in the midst of fear, rage, and panting for breath, not slowing his pace in the least.  
  
"Never mind that now! You can give me detention and take house points later. Just take the damn broom!" he said, thrusting the broom into Severus's hands.  
  
This was no time for arguments, questions, thank yous, or worry over fear of heights. Snape grabbed the broom, mounted in an instant, and Rowena climbed on right behind him, burying her face against his back, her eyes screwed shut. They were off. In seconds instead of minutes they reached the edge of the barrier.  
  
"Hold on, Rowena!" Snape shouted unnecessarily into the wind. She was clinging to him as though her life, and her hope for Katrina's life, depended upon him alone.  
  
He did a very dangerous and reckless thing. He Apparated them in mid- flight to just above the Burrow, and nearly flew directly through the hideous green Mark floating in the sky, hovering menacingly over the flaming structure that had once been the Weasley's home.  
  
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A scream of rage and grief sounded through the air, "NO!!!" Though whether it was from him or her, neither could have told. He landed quickly near a crowd of people, carelessly throwing the broom aside.  
  
Molly Weasley could be seen being restrained by several Emergency Responder Wizards. She was screaming and crying, obviously trying to get back inside the house. Fred and George sat nearby; soot covered and badly burned, but conscious and aware, their faces pale and shocked and their eyes unseeing. Arthur was on a stretcher, also severely burned, but none of the Medi- Wizards or Healers tending him had the air of urgency about them.  
  
That left only one current resident of the home unaccounted for.  
  
Katrina.  
  
Order members began Apparating to the area. Moody happened to appear next to where Severus and Rowena landed, taking in the horror. The home was still standing, but flames billowed from every door, window, and crevasse. It was apparently magically induced fire, of course, because the Fire Wizards were using magic rather than water to attempt to extinguish it, with very little success.  
  
It was no secret to anyone that Alastor Moody did not like or trust Severus Snape. He firmly believed that Snape was merely playing both sides of the game so that he could be in good with the winner when all was said and done. Moody had not been around Headquarters much lately, due to other Order business. Therefore he did not know much of the history of Katrina. Only that Molly was fostering the child, and the poor little lass had been bamboozled into a fondness for Snape.  
  
Moody's magical eye did a quick 'Weasley count' so that he was satisfied that they were present. He registered Molly's hysteria, and there was a woman he didn't immediately recognize standing next to Snape who was also on the verge of total breakdown.  
  
Snape was standing in shocked horror, staring at the devastation before him. His face was its usual implacable mask, but pale as snow and his jaw muscle worked frantically. How many times had he carelessly shot that Mark into the sky himself? How many innocent families had he destroyed just as was happening now? Never before had he fully appreciated what it felt like to be on THIS side of that hideous Mark. Never before had he felt so well and truly helpless.  
  
Moody's harsh growl broke over him, "So, Snape. What's your excuse for this one, eh? Why didn't you warn us this time around? Maybe figured burning the Burrow would put another feather in your cap with Voldemort, eh? Though I suppose it would have been better if you could claim a Weasley victim in the process, right?"  
  
His taunting was broken off by Rowena's screams as she flung herself at the older man, tiny fists flailing against his chest in ineffectual anguish. "Leave him alone! Leave him alone! He didn't do this! Katrina's still in there! You leave him alone!"  
  
Severus pulled her off of Moody, gently but firmly, and handed her to one of the Emergency Responders. He could not comfort Rowena right now—he had only thought for action, for Katrina. And he had just realized his only chance. He met Moody's gaze fully, fear and anguish adding years to his face. He gestured to the house. Moody's Eye was his last hope.  
  
"Alastor... please... where is she?" Severus asked, his voice hoarse.  
  
Moody had forgotten in the confusion that the little girl was unaccounted for. His jaw dropped in shock. Immediately his magical Eye began scanning the house, while the beetle black one continued to regard the unpleasant man before him.  
  
Never had Snape deigned to call him by his given name. He couldn't recall ever seeing the younger man in any sort of emotional turmoil except varying degrees of bitterness and anger. The heartfelt supplication reached him, as nothing else would have. There was no denying the boy's distress. Was it possible that Albus had the right him after all?  
  
"Second floor bedroom, lad," Alastor replied softly, even compassionately, after a moment. "She's wrapped herself in blankets under the bed—I can't tell if she's breathing... But son, the roof's about to go. There's no time to..."  
  
The rest of his words were wasted. Severus did a Bubble-Head Charm and various other charms and incantations on himself as he ran towards the house. Two fire-wizards tried to stop him, but he stunned them out of hand and ignored them. In an instant he was lost to the flames.  
  
Rowena collapsed fully then, the Emergency Responders supporting and restraining her as she shrieked incoherently after him in fear and grief.  
  
Albus arrived moments later, and with him Minerva and Hagrid.  
  
"We'd have been here faster but I took Remus to the woods. If there are any Death Eaters still nearby, his heightened senses will find them. What has happened?" Albus addressed Moody while Minerva immediately began to attempt to calm Rowena who had sunken into hysteria. Hagrid went to the Fire-Wizards to see if he could help.  
  
Moody's Eye never stopped following Snape. He let the Fire-Wizards explain things to Albus, as they all watched the house in horrified fascination. Only Moody could see the whole drama unfold.  
  
The magical Eye saw every detail. The stairs were gone. Snape had scrambled up burning beams that had fallen through from the upper floors in order to get to the second floor. More collapsed beams blocked the bedroom door, but he blasted them away with his wand. Flames surrounded him. He blasted the bed away when he finally found his way to it. He reached the child, and lifted her, keeping the blankets wrapped protectively around her. She was so limp... the magic of the Eye wasn't so acute as to be able to tell if she breathed, but it didn't look good.  
  
"He's got her! He's there, he's got her... Oh bloody hell....," Moody's excited words trailed off into a low swear.  
  
The entire roof collapsed—the two full stories above the floor that Severus was on falling in, as the house crumpled from the top down. Moody briefly saw Severus hunch protectively over the child as burning debris struck him in the back and shoulders. For an instant he saw the man fall to his knees from the force of the blow. But then the speed of the collapse and the brightness of the flames left all in confusion. Moody could no longer make out individual shapes or structures. It was simply one huge, fiery mass.  
  
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Molly and Rowena's shrieks rang through the air as they watched the house disintegrate before their eyes, two people still hopelessly trapped inside. But through their screams, a more jubilant sound could be heard near the Medi-Truck.  
  
"They're here! He Apparated them here! We've got them!" a Medi-Wizard was shouting.  
  
Rowena shook off the restraining wizards and ran to them, stumbling blindly through her tears, Molly hard at her heels.  
  
Severus actually looked okay at first glance. He had placed some sort of flame retardant enchantment on his clothing, and the Bubble-Head Charm had protected his head. He had apparently shielded the child from the falling debris with his own body as he had Apparated them out. She was ghastly white and still, but showed no signs of physical injury.  
  
However, on closer look, Severus was deathly pale himself and breathing hard in pain. His hands were burned almost beyond recognition. He moved stiffly, and the back of his robes were soaking wet—his own body fluids oozing through the material from the burns beneath the fabric, where the fiery building had collapsed upon them in the last moments inside the house.  
  
Still he allowed no one to tend him, all his focus, combined with that of the Medi-Wizards, was devoted to the horribly pale, unmoving form of the child. He kneeled next to her where he had laid her on a cot. The Healers' wands were moving frantically to clear smoke and toxins from her lungs, while Severus looked on helplessly, willing her with everything he had in him to BREATHE.  
  
Rowena could do nothing for the child—she had no skill in Pediatric healing of this severity. Instead she stood near Severus and began the diagnostic and healing charms to restore his hands and ease the pain of the burns on his body. His back had the worst of it, though his arms and legs did not escape injury. She couldn't heal his back with his shirt on without healing the cloth to the flesh—making the wounds far worse later. She could slow the loss of fluids, and ease his pain, that was all.  
  
She was too distraught over the events to think clearly about why the diagnostic spells revealed that he was missing a large amount of blood. Burns don't bleed... they are self-cauterizing. Fluid volume loss, yes... but how had he lost so much blood? The thought planted itself in the back of her mind for rumination at a more opportune time.  
  
The house was given up for lost. Now that Katrina was out of it, all the Fire-Wizards' focus shifted to merely containing the blaze. Everyone not involved in that fight surrounded the child where the Healers worked so frantically.  
  
Molly was weeping softly into Fred's nightshirt—or maybe it was George. The other twin stood on her other side rubbing her back. Dumbledore, Alastor, and Minerva were also silently watching. Hagrid was sobbing loudly into a huge handkerchief. Arthur Weasley had sat upright on the edge of his gurney trying to see through the crowd, his face drawn and grave.  
  
It was taking so long... Surely she should be breathing by now... It was taking far too long...  
  
And then she coughed.  
  
It was a weak, tiny little thing, barely audible above the roar of the flames. Yet a cheer went up among the onlookers. Severus Snape fully collapsed against her cot, his forehead leaning against her arm, his entire body trembling violently, whether from shock from his own injuries, adrenaline from the night's events or sheer relief was hard to say. He would allow no one to see his face for long moments. Rowena knelt next to him and wept openly as Katrina began to breathe in an easy rhythm.  
  
Katrina stabilized quickly after this and even regained consciousness. Gradually the crowd dispersed. Albus insisted on taking the injured to Hogwarts rather than St. Mungos, and his word had enough weight that none argued with him. Healers and Medi-Wizards finished tending what they could and began to pack up and leave.  
  
Severus refused their treatment, and for once Rowena didn't argue. He couldn't very well remove his shirt in front of these people... his Mark would give him away as either Death Eater or Spy. She just wanted them all to leave so she could get him home to Poppy.  
  
Albus calmly took the Weasleys in hand, insisting that they live at Hogwarts until the Burrow could be rebuilt or alternate housing chosen. They had lost all their possessions in the inferno. More than thirty years of accumulated memories, photographs and collected treasures gone in a few short hours. Yet not one of them grieved much over the loss. They were well aware how lucky they were that no one died in the attack.  
  
At last it was just Order Members and Rowena. A howl sounded from the nearby woods, and Moody stomped off to investigate. Rowena picked up Katrina who was sleepy and frightened, but fully recovered, and attempted to insist that Severus use the cot, which he adamantly refused.  
  
Now that the fear was over, his need for action began to bend towards thoughts of vengeance. He longed to find who had done this and make them PAY as only he knew how. The lick of lust that he recognized as the lure of the Dark Magic called to him stronger than it had in many years, and his temptation to yield to it was very great—to embrace it and use it to punish the ones whom had done this.  
  
But then the werewolf came up over a hill, its head covered in blood, and he allowed himself to be momentarily distracted from those dark thoughts. Rowena's heart constricted again when she saw the creature—was Remus injured as well?  
  
But Moody was following close behind. The Death Eaters who had remained to watch the 'fun' had indeed hidden in the small wooded area behind the house. They had not survived to leave. Three rather gory corpses floated on makeshift stretchers behind Moody.  
  
Remus had apparently stealthily and quite effectively ripped out the throat of each one in turn, hoods and masks not hindering his enormous teeth and jaws in the least.  
  
Severus contemptuously strode over to each bloody form and ripped off the masks. Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived and was the only official Ministry Representative present now that the Fire-Wizards had left. With Severus's assistance he identified the bodies and took fingerprints and wands for positive ID's. Then Moody wafted the bodies onto the smoldering remains of the house and with a wave of his wand the fire blazed brighter and the bodies burned. There was no point in leaving evidence of Remus's actions. He had enough trouble being a werewolf as it was.  
  
Moody looked around at the destruction and the soot covered company. It did not require a magical Eye to realize that Severus Snape was on the verge of physical collapse. Rowena had retrieved Harry's broom and was standing next to him, begging him to at least SIT down before he fell down. He ignored her and went instead to the werewolf standing nearby.  
  
"I owe you, Lupin," he said simply, gesturing to the flaming bodies of the Death Eaters where they sizzled and smoked amongst the remains of the house. Severus was well aware how close he had come to once again fully embracing the Dark Magic in those moments that he had turned his thoughts to sweet vengeance.  
  
The werewolf had done more than alert them of the danger in time to save Katrina, and kill the perpetrators. He very well may have prevented Severus at last succumbing to his constant temptation. This time at least.  
  
The werewolf shook its huge, bloody head and growled, impossibly huge teeth shining garishly red in the moonlight. Snape gave the beast a wry sneer, though in his extreme fatigue it's effect was sorely lacking, "I could possibly get used to you like this—a Lupin who can't argue or give me cheek."  
  
Moody came up behind him then, though he avoided touching the boy's severely burned and damaged back. "Severus, lad. You've done all you can here. Done more than most would have done," he grudgingly admitted.  
  
Severus turned and looked at him suspiciously, as though expecting a fight.  
  
"It's time to take your family back to Hogwarts, son. Let Poppy fix you up. You're no good to your girls lamed up, take it from the expert in being lamed up," Moody continued, ending with a harsh laugh and rapping his knuckles against his wooden leg.  
  
Severus blinked in surprise at Moody's almost friendly tone—and at his words.  
  
His 'family'. 'His' girls. He looked over at Rowena where she stood, soot covered and tear stained, but giddy with relief. She was gently cradling Katrina against her chest, Potter's broom dangling carelessly from one hand. They were looking at him, earnest chocolate-brown eyes and innocent brilliant blue ones guilelessly looking at him. Rowena was waiting for him. They were both waiting for him, smiling softly. He didn't have to be a damn good Legilimens to know that they loved him.  
  
He nodded at Moody in silent acquiescence, and pulled his Hogwarts Portkey out of his pocket. With an air of bemusement, he walked over to Rowena, so that they could all use the Portkey.  
  
They weren't a 'real' family, and probably never would be—his past would prevent it if nothing else did. Maybe he would never be able to name the thing he was feeling; or ever feel worthy of receiving what they so freely bestowed upon him. But for the first time in his life Severus Snape was struck with an understanding of something completely opposite to everything he had always believed; something very, very profound.  
  
Love is not weak.  
  
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A/N: Whew! This was adrenaline-producing to write. I hope it is enjoyable to read. More to come. I am so grateful for my beta-reader, Elaine! I have a horrible habit of over-using commas and also confusing its (possessive pronoun) with it's (contraction of it-is). I want the apostrophe to show ownership, damn it! Heh. And I accidentally entered Hermione into my spell check as Hermoine—OH NO! So If you catch that mistake... that's why. I don't know how to fix it. *wink*  
  
We will soon address what Harry is going to do with his recent stealthily acquired information. I hope it will surprise you. I will also address why Severus has not been using a blood-replenishing potion as we know exists from Arthur Weasley's attack in OotP. This was not oversight on my part, I promise. Dylan is not forgotten, he is currently working on accidentally getting himself in a lot of trouble thanks to his new 'friend' Luke.  
  
Our next stop is the Hospital wing to take care of Severus. He will have numerous visitors, both welcome and unwelcome.  
  
Your reviews mean the world to me. I'm not supposed to address them individually in my comments. If you are logged in when you review, I will try to send you an email answering any questions or comments you make. And I will always answer any emails you send to me.  
  
Feel free to comment or suggest things you might like to see addressed in the story. It is actually fairly well outlined to the finish in my head, and sketchily on paper. But I am willing to consider adding details you might find interesting if it doesn't take me on detours too far off my main plot.  
  
Happy reading!  
  
Lisa/Shanti  
  
P.S. I have just received a spam-whirlwind of unpleasant reviews from the same anonymous individual. I have deleted the unfounded stuff, but left the spelling check things and done updates to repair them—I do appreciate when people catch those for me and tell me. Please remember that as of 5/6/2004, only chapter 17 and beyond have been Beta'd. I hope to go back and clean up prior chapters eventually as my Beta readers have time. I know somewhere I accidentally said "her" when I meant "him"—if you find it, or any other similar errors, let me know so I can fix them.  
  
However, for this particular individual, I simply must say a few things:  
  
Yes, in fact, I have indeed read all of the Harry Potter books—thoroughly and obsessively. Including Quidditch Through the Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.  
  
In canon, most spells are capitalized, even when in the middle of a sentence. Wizards Apparate, they do not apparate. The Bubble-Head Charm is capitalized and hyphenated, etc.,  
  
I would defy you to tell me page number and book in canon that says Severus can produce a Patronus. (Also capitalized, by the way.) Lupin clearly states that many fully-qualified wizards can't do it, and we have seen how heavily dependent it is upon happy memories. Give me a canon-Snape happy memory and we'll discuss whether canon-Snape can produce said Patronus.  
  
I have already addressed the Snape virginity thing before and won't do it again here. My story, my fantasy, sorry. If others can write him as a poof sleeping with Harry, I can write him as a virgin. If you find Rowena too obsessed or the plot too boring, or Snape too out of character for your tastes, I sincerely invite you not to read. Not everyone likes everything. If your negative comments are merely a matter of your own personal tastes and opinions, please keep them to yourself. If they are founded on errors in my writing or misinterpretation of canon, please feel free to bring them to my attention.  
  
I apologize to my lovely fans and friends who have been so wonderful as to enjoy my story and tell me so. I regret wasting your time with this. I had no way to address this person's comments as they did them anonymously, and felt they needed to be addressed. At least for my own peace of mind.  
  
Hugs, next chapter soon... maybe by Sunday or Monday. I was thrown off my roll by the unpleasantness. I'll get back on soon, I'm sure. Severus and Rowena are tired of living in my head and wish to live in fandom. I meant to tease you a day or two longer before posting this, but I needed to get back on a happier note. 


	21. Chapter 21: Baby Steps Towards Healing

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description. A few short paragraphs of graphic descriptions of Death Eater crimes, warning!  
  
Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!  
  
Chapter 21: Baby-Steps Towards Healing  
  
The soft 'whoosh' that usually signaled Severus's arrival in the secret room in the Hospital wing at Hogwarts was instead a rather undignified, muffled 'thud', followed by a low moan of pain. Rowena got up off of the bed at once, pulling Katrina with her so as not to cause Severus any further discomfort. The burns had to be severe to account for the moisture on his robes, and she could only imagine how excruciating the pain must be.  
  
Poppy was there waiting, her face anxious, but her manner brisk and professional as she went to him immediately. Rowena sat in a chair next to the bed holding Katrina, who was already nearly asleep in her arms. It was still several hours before dawn, yet well past midnight.  
  
"Alright, Severus. Up. Shirt off, robes off. No time to be shy. C'mon, boy, you've lost too much fluid volume to dawdle about, hurry up, hurry up," Madam Pomfrey scolded as she began to withdraw potions, bandages and cleansing solutions from her cabinet.  
  
Rowena laid Katrina in the chair and helped Severus sit on the edge of the bed. Very gingerly she helped him with the buttons of his shirt and robes. It was a mark of how badly he was injured that he allowed the assistance. She had done a fair job of healing his hands on site, but the fingers were still sore and stiff, moving clumsily as he fumbled with the buttons. The pain relieving charms she had used had long since worn off and he no longer had the benefit of adrenaline to suppress his awareness of the pain. His breathing came in sharp gasps, his dark eyes clouded in his discomfort.  
  
His entire back was horribly burned. In some areas it was pink and oozing where blistered flesh had peeled away against his shirt. In other areas it was burned black and dead. A small portion across his left shoulder blade was burnt so deeply that white bone could be seen glistening among the angry red and black flesh. Rowena was horrified at the extent of the injury, and could tell by the decrease in the nurse's 'tut-tuttings' that she was also surprised at their severity.  
  
At last he sat at the edge of the bed clad in nothing but his under shorts. His knees and shins were lightly burned where he had braced himself climbing up burning debris to get to the second floor, as were portions of his arms, but the most severe injury was unquestionably his back.  
  
Poppy began to work in her brisk, no-nonsense fashion. Rowena assisted with the pain relieving charms so that she could feel she was of some use. He merely sat, still and silent, only the occasional change in his breathing and tightening of his muscles betraying his pain. The nurse had him lean against the over-bed table so that she had free access to the wounds. The disinfectant sizzled and smoked as she daubed it on with clinical efficiency.  
  
"I can fix this up, Severus. Most of it will be fine by morning," the nurse explained as she worked, "But here over your scapula where the flesh is completely gone... that's going to require some regenerating potions. And the dressings will have to be changed at least three times a day—more if they become wet or drain-through. Otherwise you're looking at infection. You'll need to have someone else take your classes the first few days next week at the very least...."  
  
"No," he said sharply, through gritted teeth.  
  
"Don't argue with me boy, you're here for five days at least, and I won't hear another word..."  
  
"No. I have an errand later today that will not be delayed," he said again, with equal determination as hers. "I will come and you can play with your bandages as often as you like, but I will not sit in this ward like an invalid."  
  
Poppy just clucked her tongue and said something about "the Headmaster" and continued her work.  
  
Rowena then remembered the blood loss, and drew attention to it, "Poppy, he's lost a lot of blood, too. Do you have a blood replenishing potion?"  
  
"Nonsense, child; burns don't bleed," Poppy said, distractedly. But to assure herself, she did some diagnostic spells as well.  
  
"Severus!" she scolded, when she learned the truth of the matter. "How on earth did you lose so much blood?"  
  
"I haven't lost any blood, woman. Maybe I've just become anemic," he said acidly.  
  
"Anemic my hat! What have you been doing? You can't be keeping things like this a secret. I'll be having words with Albus about you. Anemic indeed," she muttered as she went back to her potions stores.  
  
"Blood replenishing potion. Drink it, and then put making more on the top of your to-do list when you are released from here—this is my last dose," she said imperiously as she thrust it in his hand.  
  
He shook his head and thrust it away, "I haven't got time to make more. It takes far too long to mature. I am incredibly busy at the moment. Keep it for the Quidditch idiots who are far more likely to need it. I am fine."  
  
Poppy and Rowena exchanged worried looks, but Severus was getting more and more irritable as his condition improved. They decided not to argue further at the moment. However, Poppy would allow no argument over the flesh-regenerating potion. She watched him with a hawk-like gaze to ensure he actually drank it. When she had finished all she could do, she left him in Rowena's charge. The Weasleys had arrived and she needed to go and begin tending to their injuries.  
  
His hands and lighter wounds were completely healed and large, clean white bandages covered several areas of his upper back. Rowena went to his quarters and brought him a very loose nightshirt that wouldn't rub against his bandages. At last he settled irritably in the bed, lying on his side to protect his back. Rowena picked up Katrina and sat in the chair next to his bed, holding the child tightly, laying her cheek against the golden curls.  
  
"Lupin, go to bed. I'm fine," he said irritably.  
  
"I know you are," she said looking at him wistfully. "I thought I'd lost you tonight...I almost did lose you... both of you. I just need to be with you right now. Are you going to make me leave?"  
  
He looked at her and at the tiny child on her lap and gave a wry smile. "No. Of course not; you can't sit up all night without sleep. Come here."  
  
He reached his wand from the nightstand and transfigured the bed to be larger. Drawing the covers down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the bed with him. She smiled tenderly and settled Katrina's sleeping form between them. In short order they were wrapped together in the mutual reassuring comfort of each other.

* * *

The sun was pouring brightly through the small window when Rowena woke. Katrina was asleep on her chest, and Severus was lying on his side, his arm draped protectively over both her and Katrina. Rowena smiled softly as she looked at him and snuggled closer into the warmth of his arms. He woke when she stirred and caught her gaze with his fathomless black eyes.  
  
Moody's words still echoed in his head... "Your girls"... "Your family". Somehow everything had changed inside him since the moment the werewolf first communicated the attack. Maybe from the moment Albus had first shown him the empty black box two weeks ago.  
  
He realized that while he still didn't feel worthy of their trust and affections, he no longer felt compelled to drive them away from him. No, instead he felt an overpowering determination to somehow BECOME worthy. This was an amazing thing... to be cared for and depended upon, to be trusted implicitly and loved unconditionally. He damn well intended to EARN it.  
  
He leaned up on his elbow and slowly claimed her lips with his, careful not to disturb the sleeping child. He poured every bit of tenderness he could express into the kiss, gently stroking her lips with his, probing with his tongue until he found hers, caressing and tasting.  
  
When he pulled back to look at her, tears were running silently down her face. He gently stroked the tears from her face, raised a brow and said sardonically, "That was not quite the reaction I had anticipated."  
  
She tried to smile through her tears but instead simply wrapped her arm around him, encompassing both him and Katrina in her hug as she began to cry in earnest against his chest. He enfolded her into his arms and simply held her until the wave of tears had passed.  
  
"I was so scared, Severus. I thought you had died, that I had lost you. I was just so scared!" she said when she at last found her voice.  
  
"Shhhh," he said gently, rubbing his chin against the top of her head, "Rowena, it's over. I'm fine. Katrina's fine. Everything is going to be okay."  
  
The thing that surprised him the most was not to hear himself say those words, but to find that he actually believed them. At this particular moment, with Rowena warm and soft in his arms and Katrina sleeping peacefully between them, he had never felt surer of anything in his life. Somehow, he was determined to make sure that everything really would be 'okay'.

* * *

Two hours later, however, he was in a towering rage. Rowena had left the room to check on the Weasleys and to bring him clean clothing to wear. Several Order members were coming to discuss what had occurred and its implications. But that interfering woman had taken his wand when she left! Correction—she had taken BOTH his wands, effectively making it impossible for him to leave the room. Poppy had warded it against his exit, and without a wand he could not drop the wards.  
  
When she returned with fresh robes, she left Katrina with Molly. He was pacing the small space like a caged tiger.  
  
"Lupin, give me my wand. NOW," he said in his dangerous silken tones.  
  
She placed the bundle of robes in his hands and stood on tip-toe to kiss him gently, "No."  
  
"Rowena, I have things I need to do. Things that will not wait," he insisted through nearly clenched teeth.  
  
"They will have to wait. Poppy said five days. I doubt very much she'll contain you that long, but I think a full twenty-four hours is not too much to ask. Albus and the others will visit you here. Now, what can I order for you to eat?"  
  
He threw the robes onto the bed and grabbed her shoulders to make her look at him, "Rowena, I have to see Lucius Malfoy—TODAY. It will not wait, I tell you. This is not a joking matter."  
  
"Oh, well if that's your worry, then sit down and be a good patient, Severus. We apparently had a reporter in our midst last night at the Burrow. Lucius is coming here sometime this evening to visit you—he sent me an Owl," she said, tossing him a copy of The Daily Prophet.  
  
On the front page were several pictures from the night before. The Dark Mark above the flaming house; Severus next to a hysterical Rowena and doubting Moody; pictures of him going into the house; and even a picture of him kneeling beside Katrina's cot after pulling her out of the flames, Rowena at his side.  
  
It was all accompanied by a full, quite exaggerated story by one Rita Skeeter, complete with the juicy rumors of the 'mysterious fiancée' of the solitary Hogwarts Potions Master. According to the story, he rescued ALL the inhabitants of the house from the fire, not just Katrina. The hint was present throughout that the child was not an orphan as had been suggested, but a secret love-child between said professor and the mysterious woman. All in all, it read like a rather sleazy tabloid story than an actual news piece.  
  
Severus groaned as he threw the paper aside after reading the article, "Potter and company are going to have a field day with that! Very well, if Lucius is indeed coming here, I need to retrieve a package for him out of my lab. I still insist that you give me my wand at once."  
  
"No. I'll get your package for you, but no wand," she said patiently.  
  
It was perhaps quite lucky that Poppy came in at that moment to change his bandages.

* * *

Remus was among the first to visit that day. He wasn't actually there to see Severus, but rather to check on Rowena and the little girl. He looked drawn and tired as he always did after his transformations. But worry over Tonks had worn on him lately as well and an even heavier burden had settled on him over the course of the night.  
  
Severus was sitting on the edge of his bed using the over-bed table as a desk of sorts, looking through files and information that Albus had brought in earlier. Rowena sat in a recliner next to the bed, and Remus sat in a chair near Rowena, though trying to maintain a distance from Severus. Katrina was currently with Molly Weasley.  
  
After a short bit of 'small talk', Rowena delved right to the heart of the matter, "Remus, what's really bothering you today? I mean, aside from everything,"she said with a wistful smile.  
  
Remus sighed and ran a hand tiredly through his hair. "Last night... Rowena, last night I killed three people. I mean, they were Death Eaters and after what they had done they deserved it... I'm not really sorry I did it... but it's a strange feeling. Yesterday I was just a guy who happened to have this problem once a month. I sort of had the dubious distinction of being perhaps the only living werewolf who had never injured another human being. Today I'm a killer. I'm surprised how much it bothers me."  
  
Severus looked up from his work with a brow raised incredulously. This man, who might have been his own would-be-murderer years ago if Black's schemes had succeeded, was genuinely distressed about killing three Death Eaters.  
  
"Which death bothers you, Lupin?" Snape asked tiredly, "Baddock's? He was particularly fond of killing Muggle women in the advanced stages of pregnancy. He carried a rather long knife, you see, and he would cut the abdomen and extract the fetus—generally developed enough to be born alive. That's actually not a terribly fatal wound for the woman at first. He would yank out the entire uterus in the process to ensure the woman bled to death eventually, but not before she watched him kill the infant. There are certain dark magic spells that require fetal brain tissue. There are more humane ways to acquire the tissue, of course, though they all require the death of the fetus, but those aren't nearly so entertaining."  
  
He paused, giving Remus chance to absorb what he had said. "Good God! That's sick!" Remus exclaimed, looking rather green in the face.  
  
"Indeed, but then Death Eaters aren't known for their sanity or compassion," Snape said sardonically. He continued then in his detailing of the Death Eaters Remus had killed.  
  
"Pucey was far less subtle. He merely liked anything that was as bloody as he could make it and didn't care how long his victims lived in the process. He tended to merely slit Muggle throats, though if he could do an entire family at once he always started with the children. He liked how it added to the distress of the parents."  
  
Severus's face had become an implacable mask as he spoke. Rowena could see the tell-tale muscle in his jaw tense and knew he was thinking of Katrina.  
  
"Of course the worst of the three was Hopkirk. His tastes were more in the realm of vivisection and sexual torture. He liked his victims young. I won't disgust you with any more detail than that.  
  
"I'm just rather curious as to which of those fine upstanding citizens you felt particularly remorseful about killing?" he finished dryly.  
  
Remus shook his head in combined horror and anger, "When you put it like that, none of them. Maybe I should regret that I killed them too quickly!"  
  
"REMUS!" Rowena exclaimed, surprised that her very mild-mannered brother could say such a thing.  
  
But Snape actually gave him a cold smile of approval, "Indeed."

* * *

A short while later other Order members arrived, including Albus. Rowena got up to leave but was requested to stay by the Headmaster. Molly carried in Katrina who had fallen asleep for her afternoon nap, and Rowena settled the child onto Severus's bed.  
  
The Weasley's all looked whole and well. Arthur had a small bandage across his jaw, and the twins had some bandages on their hands. But they grinned brightly and waved to Rowena as they came in and sat down on one of the folding chairs Albus had conjured into the room for the impromptu meeting.  
  
Molly went immediately to Severus and hugged him tightly. It was fortunate for him that she was short, and his remaining burns were high up on his back. He had no physical discomfort from the hug, but was still highly shocked and embarrassed. He patted her briefly on the shoulder until she released him, dabbing at her eyes. She said nothing as she went to sit with Arthur, and Severus merely returned to the edge of his bed, trying to pretend it hadn't happened.  
  
Before any true discussion could begin, the door burst open again to admit the entrance of four other individuals. Uninvited individuals: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Harry's jaw was set mulishly and he frowned around the room, settling his startlingly green gaze on Severus, guessing correctly where the first objections would arise.  
  
"Potter—what are you doing here? Get out," Snape snarled viciously.  
  
"We're not leaving. I'm tired of being kept in the dark by you people! I'm supposed to have to face Voldemort eventually, fine. I want to know what's going on. We can help. We want to help. I want to help," Harry blurted out defiantly.  
  
"NO!" Snape growled, "Absolutely not. You can't be trusted. You don't follow basic rules or directions. You are a child. Get out."  
  
Rowena had stood and retrieved Harry's broom from the corner and took it to him, "You did help, Harry. This probably saved Katrina's life, letting Severus get there in time. But this isn't the time or place for you now."  
  
Albus broke in, "Severus, I think Harry has a point. These four already know most of what's going on. They know your role. They also have an unfortunate habit of seeking out information when they know there are secrets around. Perhaps it is time to stop shielding them and to start letting them know what we face."  
  
Severus snorted in disgust, "Tell him and you might as well tell the whole school. Do not forget the Death Eaters are not above using their own children as spies."  
  
"We're not going to tell anyone anything!" Harry spat back at Snape. "I've known you were a Death Eater spy since my fourth year! Trust me, if I wanted to reveal secrets that would be my first one! Maybe that way I could get you off my back!"  
  
"HARRY!" Rowena and Molly both said at once, startled that he would threaten to do something that was the equivalent of a death threat. Severus merely sneered maliciously at the boy.  
  
"Do it, Potter. I assure you I'll take you down with me," he said silkily.  
  
Rowena took in a sharp his of breath and squeezed his hand in a fruitless attempt to rein-in his anger.  
  
Thankfully Albus broke in, facing the kids with a very stern countenance, "Enough of this! If you are to be included in this particular discussion, you must understand a few things. This does not entitle you to be included in EVERY discussion involving the Order. I will not tolerate disrespect or disobedience.  
  
"I believe if you had understood the importance of my instructions to you last year, you would have followed them more willingly. I made a grave error. I am willing to try it your way and be more open with you. But I will no longer tolerate deliberate disobedience of my instructions or disrespect of my Professors. And nothing said in this room leaves this room. Is that perfectly clear?"  
  
All four of them nodded, though Potter continued to cast a nasty glare in Severus's direction, which he was more than happy to return.  
  
"Capital. Be seated then, and be quiet unless you have something to add," Albus said firmly, and drew up four more chairs.  
  
After much discussion of various sources of information, it was determined that the attack on the Burrow had been directed primarily at the twins. Apparently they had been quite successful in stopping shipments of questionable items to Knockturn Alley. As the Weasleys are pureblood, there was no intent to kill them, only frighten them. Arthur and some of his Muggle protection legislature was also an incentive.  
  
Remus reported that he was fairly certain that there were five separate men in the woods, and he had only successfully found three, which brought the discussion around to Severus's safety due to the Daily Prophet reports. Severus brushed this off as a non-issue. He had not yet given the Dark Lord the notes on the Azkaban wards that Rowena had given him weeks before, saving them for a time of need. He was confident that he could make adequate excuses for his behavior so as to remove him from suspicion.  
  
A report from Tonks revealed the Dark Lord's continued interest in the Prophesy. Apparently his people had researched it further and determined that there was still a possible way to obtain it in its entirety. This would require a Pensieve from Albus containing the memory of the Prophesy. The plan was to attempt to acquire a hostage of sufficient import to the Headmaster to ransom in exchange for such a Pensieve.  
  
This was the first time everyone in the room learned more or less the contents of the Prophesy, and Rowena could tell by their pallor that Harry's friends hadn't known the severity of his danger. What a horrible burden to be placed on a child! She felt suddenly more compassionate towards him than she had when he entered the room. No wonder he wanted to know what was going on—in the end it all affected him quite personally!  
  
However, Severus and Alastor openly scoffed at the Prophesy. Neither man felt it carried much weight.  
  
"Even if it is true and destined," sneered Snape, "we are all quite doomed to the Dark Lord's rule if Potter doesn't learn to shoulder some responsibility and accountability. The boy runs around as though he owns the place, as though rules are beneath him. He behaves as though he is entitled to do whatever he likes whenever he likes, simply because he is 'Harry Potter'.  
  
"I do not think that all of this special treatment is at all preparing him for what he will face, if indeed he is destined to battle against the Dark Lord. I, for one, will not be resting any of my hopes for the future on HIM."  
  
Harry frowned and sputtered indignantly, but held his tongue for the moment, not wanting to be expelled from the meeting after finally having been allowed to sit in.  
  
Moody had fixed his normal eye on Severus as he spoke, while the magical one continued in its characteristic sweep of the area. It did settle at last on Harry. He stretched out his wooden leg with a 'thunk' to draw attention to him, and then added his gravelly voice to the mix.  
  
"I think I might have managed to be a bit more tactful than old Snape," Moody said with a small chuckle at the idea of himself being considered 'tactful' in any setting. "But I have to agree with the sentiment. I don't hold much stock in the Prophesy, but if it is true, it's for bloody damn sure I want that boy better prepared before I'd trust him to battle for my eternal soul."  
  
Snape glanced over at Moody in surprise. He wouldn't have expected agreement from THAT quarter!  
  
Moody continued, "I'm not saying anything against your sheer talent, Potter. But if you're going to look on this as genuine and take on the responsibility, you've got to get that chip off your shoulder and start putting forth some effort in your studies and training. You shouldn't be surprised that you're a frequent topic of discussion. Your marks are slipping boy; your Charms and Transfiguration work so far this year is shoddy at best...."  
  
He would have continued, but Rowena interrupted with some asperity, "Okay, well, I don't think this meeting was intended as a 'dissect Harry's academic marks' session. He's been working very hard in his Occlumency lessons with me, and I defy any of you to face what he's faced and not go through a bit of defiance and denial. His study habits and marks are no one's business but his own, Prophesy or not. The Headmaster has already addressed the rule breaking. I think we just need to move on and leave Harry alone."  
  
Albus smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, and gave a little nod, "Agreed, Rowena, I couldn't have said it better myself."  
  
He deftly returned the discussion back towards Voldemort's desire for the Prophesy and talk of hostages. It of course caused grave worry in many quarters, and it was decided that Hogsmeade visits would be cancelled for the year. The kids promised to help keep the uproar over this as low as possible, and also to report anyone trying to sneak out of the grounds. Even Harry seemed to understand the seriousness of that situation. It was simply not possible to sufficiently guard the students when they were off the grounds. Dumbledore also decided to ask all the teachers to do any shopping possible by Owl-post, and travel in pairs at least when leaving the grounds was absolutely necessary.  
  
All in all it was a tired and profoundly worried group of people who left the room an hour later.

* * *

It was late evening before the next visitor arrived, so Severus managed to rest a bit and Rowena helped the Weasley's settle into some family quarters in the residential wing of the castle. It was decided that Katrina would continue to live with them there since they were still her official guardians, and of course Rowena and Severus had their jobs.  
  
Still, Katrina was with Rowena when she went back to Severus. She was unpleasantly surprised to find Dylan in the room. He had swung a chair around backwards and straddled it as though it were a horse, leaning his elbows across the back of the chair and clearly annoying the hell out of Severus.  
  
"Well, now, Sev, that was a right brave thing you done savin' that little girl and all," he drawled.  
  
"Professor Howard. I expect you to address me as Professor Snape. I am not, nor have I ever been 'Sev' and I am not about to tolerate it now. This is your one and only warning. I would hate to have to remove your tongue," Severus said, not bothering to veil his threat. He plainly didn't think the cowboy would recognize it unless it was blatant.  
  
Dylan was clearly taken aback, but decided not to take offense, "Oh, right'cha are Perfesser Snape. I didn't mean no disrespect.  
  
"Hey, I met a buddy of yours last weekend. He's gonna help me get some stuff for the kids for my advanced classes. I don' know enough folks 'round here to get some of the more unusual stuff; but Luke, why, he was right helpful."  
  
Severus merely scowled at him, not deigning to reply. He knew no one by the name of 'Luke', and didn't care to hear the cowboy's class itinerary. Fortunately Rowena entered the room with Katrina then. The little girl immediately climbed onto the bed with Severus and snuggled against his side.  
  
"Aw, now ain't she a right purdy little thing? I ain't seen her yet. Poor little filly; damn good thing you got there in time, that's all I got to say. Hi, Honey, I'm Dylan," he said smiling blindingly at the child.  
  
Rowena had taken a chair next to the bed and was trying not to laugh at the look of disgust on Severus's face as he regarded the 'cowboy'. He quickly schooled his face into impassivity, though, and Katrina's eyes grew wide as she looked over Dylan's shoulder.  
  
"What a charming picturesque. I came to pay my regards and see if you needed anything as you recover from your injuries. I see you are being quite well taken care of," sounded the smoothly cultured tones of...  
  
"Luke! Well, hell, fancy meetin' you here! I was just tellin' Sev... I mean Perfesser Snape that I'd met up with you. I shoulda known you'd come see you're buddy in his hour of need," Dylan stood and shook Lucius's hand warmly with the jubilant air of someone meeting a long-lost brother.  
  
Lucius, in tribute to years of practicing social graces in every situation, greeted the man with warm politeness. The only hint of discomposure was a small pause in the speed of his blink as he was addressed as "Luke" and the slightest of pained edges to his polite smile.  
  
"Dylan. It is indeed a pleasure to see you again. I was hoping to have a visit with my... 'buddy'... as you say. I see perhaps I need to return later."  
  
He then directed his cold, ice gray eyes to Katrina and smiled at her. Rowena barely suppressed a shudder as a chill washed over her at the sight. Katrina must have felt something as well, because she cowered closer to Severus. He was in such a dangerous position right now—he didn't' dare show Katrina any affection in front of Lucius! Quickly Rowena picked up the child and stepped as far away from Lucius as she could in the small room.  
  
"No, Lucius. I'm glad to give you privacy. It's time for Katrina's bath, and I need to retrieve your package from Severus's lab for you. I'll be back in half an hour or a bit longer," she said. She looked worriedly into Severus's eyes, but his face was an implacable mask; he merely nodded.  
  
Dylan apparently caught on as well and followed her out of the room, though he stopped in the main ward to talk to Arthur Weasley who was fascinated by his spurs.  
  
Lucius sealed the door behind them with an Imperturbable Charm and turned a cool gaze to Severus.  
  
"Your wench's brother killed three of my men last night and nearly got me as well. Explain," he said without preamble.  
  
It was well that Severus had spent a lifetime learning to control his emotions, or his rage at Lucius would have betrayed him in that moment. Instead he merely regarded the blond man in cool silence for long minutes. It was Lucius who was driven to break it.  
  
"Severus, my old friend," he said with an icy smile as he leaned his hands against his tall walking stick, "I do believe you have gone soft. What could possibly possess you to risk your life to save the mudblood child? It's plastered all over the papers. I don't need to tell you that our Master is seriously displeased. I would like to be able to offer him a reasonable explanation so that your death is not a certainty when next you answer his call."  
  
At last Severus spoke in his deep baritone, boredom thick in every word, "Soft? Me? Hardly; Dumbledore has been growing suspicious. Some of your men have been clumsy in their threats to the Weasleys. Rowena is quite fond of the child and had given her some sort of talisman that allows the girl to contact Rowena at any time, which is how we learned of the fire. Rowena alerted Dumbledore, and the rest is history. Rowena is fond of the child; she is fond of me. Dumbledore suspects me. By saving the child from your clumsy inferno, I refreshed my loyalty to them all, in their eyes."  
  
Lucius gazed at him coolly a moment longer, and then visibly relaxed. He gracefully sat in the chair Dylan had recently vacated, though he turned it around and sat in it properly, "Ah, Severus, forgive me for my doubts. I wanted to believe there was a reasonable explanation. I am so glad you have justified my faith in you once again."  
  
He regarded the darker man shrewdly for a moment before continuing.  
  
"However, I still believe that you have developed a bit of a personal interest in the woman yourself. Am I correct?"  
  
Severus merely scowled with a brow raised.  
  
"You don't have to answer. I can guess. Do not be ashamed, I am quite fond of my Narcissa as you know. They have their uses, women do. There is no reason for you to be immune to their lure when the rest of us are not."  
  
He stood and walked to the window, deep in thought, twirling his staff absently. "You are walking a dangerous line, Severus. But at least you are of value to both sides, which offers you a measure of protection. Aurors are poking around my home with increasing frequency. My family is in danger.  
  
"I would like to offer a bit of... mutual protection shall we say. Draco is the last of the Malfoys as you know. Give me your word for the sake of our long friendship that you will do what you can to preserve my line, and I will give you mine that I will do what I can to protect your wench and her pet child."  
  
Severus was immediately suspicious and let it show in face and voice, "What benefit is it to me to risk my position by guarding Draco? You are quite mistaken if you assume the woman and girl are that valuable to me."  
  
Lucius shrugged, "Suit yourself. I expected you would offer Draco what protection you could simply out of loyalty and debt owed to me, as well as the fact that you are his Godfather. I was merely trying to give you something of value in exchange. I do have quite a bit of say these days in choosing targets. You know how the Dark Lord hates Mudbloods."  
  
With great restraint to avoid slugging the man right there and then, Severus shrugged and answered in bored tones, "Your terms are acceptable—the woman and the girl in exchange for Draco. At least until I find something of more value to protect instead. I take these things very seriously as you know, Lucius. If either is injured after this agreement from something you could have prevented, I will not hesitate to kill Draco, Godson or no."  
  
Lucius strode to him quickly as though expecting him to change his mind, and shook his hand, "Accepted and agreed."  
  
Rowena returned then with Lucius's package, and knocked on the door. Lucius opened it with great gallantry and jubilation of spirits.  
  
"Ah, Rowena, I was just commending my dear friend on his bravery. What a heroic thing to save the child as he did. I am sure you must be very proud of him."  
  
Rowena regarded him with an air of suspicion, but did not hesitate to agree, "Yes, I am. But I was proud of him before. He's a good man."  
  
"And a lucky man to have found you at this stage in his life. I do hope to see you again soon. I know my dear Narcissa is planning a dinner party sometime soon. I really don't keep track of the trivialities, but I am sure you will receive an invitation.  
  
"Good evening," he said as he gently took the clinking package and shook her hand warmly. He then left the room, shutting the door as he left with his walking stick, a definite spring in his steps.

* * *

Severus, on the other hand, looked quite drained. She sat next to him and peered at him worriedly, "That bad, huh?"  
  
"Lucius was involved in last night's attack," he said simply, and then wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, needing to feel her warmth.  
  
He actually felt somewhat safer knowing that he had exchanged such an oath with Lucius. The other man did have significant clout when it came to 'choosing targets' as he said. It was incomprehensible to Lucius that Severus wouldn't allow anything to deliberately happen to Draco simply because he was a student at Hogwarts.  
  
Death Eaters liked the dubious sense of security obtained from oaths of honor, and could generally be relied upon to uphold such oaths. Lucius was one who held great stock in the honor of a man's word, and so Severus felt confident enough to make the promise. It made 'his girls' as safe as he could make them in light of the circumstances.  
  
Poppy came in and changed his bandages again. The wounds were healing well. Thanks to Dumbledore's intervention, she relented and said she would allow him out in the morning to teach classes. With the conditions that he return during breaks for fresh bandages and he get plenty of sleep tonight.  
  
To that effect, the nurse began to attempt to chivvy Rowena out of the room, and she would have reluctantly complied.  
  
Severus had other ideas, "No, she stays," he said firmly.  
  
Poppy threw her hands up in disgust but made no further arguments. Rowena blushed crimson, but was very pleased that he wanted her to be with him.  
  
"Lupin, come here," he commanded, pulling the blankets back for her.  
  
"Aren't you going to enlarge the bed?" she asked.  
  
"Seeing as how you have taken my wand, wench, no I am not. Besides, there's plenty of room here. I don't want you that far away."  
  
He finally allowed her to leave long enough to change into pajamas rather than spend another night in her robes. The extreme modesty of her nighttime attire left something to be desired, in his opinion. She wore deep purple silk pajamas that were quite as modest as her usual clothing.  
  
She had braided her hair to sleep, but when she returned to the room he immediately took it out, letting it cascade down in long waves. He ignored her protests against the tangles that would result by morning.  
  
"I like it down. Leave it," he directed, though it was more an appeal than a demand.  
  
She felt incredibly shy and embarrassed for some reason... she had napped with him several times now, slept the night with him last night... but somehow this seemed all more deliberate and suggestive. She was trembling slightly as she sat on the edge of the bed next to where he was already lying.  
  
"Rowena... come here... "  
  
She at last lay down next to him, and he pulled her close. The warm, spicy scent of him filled her senses. He was leaning up on one arm looking down into her face. Her heart was thrumming madly at his nearness and that odd tightening sensation in her abdomen that he so often inspired flooded through her, causing a delicious shudder.  
  
Gently he caressed her face, devouring her with his eyes. Never had she known it was possible to feel so beautiful simply by being... LOOKED at. Still she trembled, though she didn't know why—whether it was fear or anticipation...  
  
"Rowena, I am not going to make love to you tonight," he said softly, bluntly, taking her completely by surprise.  
  
"Oh...," a slight breathy sound was all she managed to make. Was she relieved or disappointed? Even she could not have said, though it was something to know what to expect... or not to expect. And her trembling did ease with the knowledge.  
  
The corners of his mouth lifted as he read the confusion of thoughts pass her visage. "This is hardly the time or place for something that momentous, don't you agree?"  
  
She nodded silently, too overcome at the moment with awareness of him for coherent speech. His slight smile brightened a bit more as he continued, "I just wanted you with me. I have never wanted the presence of another human being since I was a very small child... but I find I am finally ready to admit that I want you with me. Do you mind?"  
  
"No, I don't mind... I like to be with you, you know that."  
  
He smirked and gave a small laugh, "I know it. I can't for the life of me imagine why, but I have come to know it."  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want you to kiss me..."  
  
Slowly, teasingly he lowered his lips to hers. She moaned blissfully against his lips and parted her own to allow him admittance. Tongue tangled with tongue passionately as he pulled her closer. She was afraid of hurting his wounds on his back so instead wrapped an arm around his waist. The other hand wound itself into his hair, clinging to him. He trailed off to her ears and throat, nuzzling her neck with hot kisses as he learned what pleased her.  
  
Her pajama top was too modest to allow him enough access to where he wanted to kiss and taste... As he kissed her he undid the top buttons, loosening the fabric so that he could nibble the sensitive ridge of flesh along her collarbone and shoulder, his hand boldly caressing the gentle swell of her breast through the fabric. She gasped and then moaned in pleasure as he touched her, the hard peak of her nipple rigid against his hand. He draped one muscular leg across hers so that his thigh was deliciously pressed against her feminine core and she arched involuntarily against him.  
  
She could hardly comprehend the sensations that flooded her as he explored her body. The sensual tickle of his hair as it brushed her neck where he was kissing, the firm hardness that was pressing seductively against her thigh, revealing to her his desire as well. And then the sharp thrill of his hand on her breast... she had no idea that being touched there could feel so incredible!  
  
"Severus..." she moaned desperately...  
  
He returned to her lips and kissed her deeply, crushing her chest against his, delighting at the feel of her heart pounding against him. She arched herself against his hardness, pressing her groin against his thigh. She made soft, desperate, whimpering sounds against his lips and his control was nearly lost entirely.  
  
Instead he backed off slightly and redid her top buttons, smiling into her passion darkened eyes.  
  
"How can you DO that?" she asked in frustration.  
  
"Do what?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Just turn that off like that... I'm about to go insane and you're just all calm, cool and collected. It's quite cruel and unfair!"  
  
He stroked her cheek and kissed her gently, "Oh no, Rowena, I'm not the least bit calm or any of those other things... well, cruel we have established many times," he actually grinned at this and kissed her again.  
  
"I find that I'm a bit old-fashioned, which I assure you does surprise me greatly. There will be a time and place for this completion, but this is not it. In the meantime I think it is pleasant to indulge in 'research', don't you think? I'd much rather kiss you to insensibility and deal with the frustration of my body than not taste of your delights at all."  
  
"Why, Severus Snape, I do believe you are a closet romantic," she teased, snuggling into his chest.  
  
"I will never admit to such an insulting accusation," he said, pretending-- rather badly--to be affronted. He kissed her tenderly again and then wrapped her in his arms. In shorter time than might be imagined, they were both blissfully asleep.

* * *

A/N: Oh dear, what on earth can it be that Luke—I mean Lucius—has helped Dylan acquire for the teaching of his DADA class? It surely can't be good! Do you really believe Harry will attempt to be more rule-abiding?  
  
I was a bit surprised that Albus let him stay in the meeting, but I think his guilt over Sirius and the consequences of his secrecy of last year still weigh heavily on him. And as much of the discussion involved the Prophecy, which does involve Harry, I think he felt Harry had a right to be present.  
  
Happy Reading! 


	22. Chapter 22: Secret Oaths and Commitment...

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
The Fire-Stone in Rowena's ring is the brain-child of my roleplay friend Annii Fraizer. I have modified it to match my own ideas, but it started out as hers. Thank you Annii!  
  
Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 22: Secret Oaths and Commitments

* * *

An uneasy peace settled over the school. It was the eerie calm of hushed anticipation. The Daily Prophet article was soon common knowledge. The students looked at Severus and Rowena with new suspicions and ideas as to their relationship; but also new respect for the cruel Professor who would run into a burning building to save a child.  
  
The Dark Lord waited an entire week after the fire before summoning Severus. His back was nearly entirely healed and he exuded confidence about the meeting, but still Rowena feared for him when he left. She stayed resolutely in the hospital wing until his return. He was ashen- faced and sweaty upon his arrival and moved with deliberate slowness that spoke of intensive use of the Cruciatus curse, but was otherwise uninjured.  
  
Rowena was newly ashamed at her inability to make any significant advances in countering the Unforgivables in her research. Still, she did have the spell they'd developed that was at least able to ease the pain and heal the nerve damage that was the after-effect of the Cruciatus curse. She used it quickly and helped him up and back to his quarters.  
  
The tightening of Hogwarts security had forced her to at last give up her volunteer work at St. Mungos, at least for the present. She also redoubled her research efforts in every possible spare moment. Severus likewise spent hours and hours brewing potions that would be needed in the war. They kept their adjoining lab door open when they were working, enjoying companionable silence even as they were absorbed in separate tasks.  
  
Hermione Granger took Rowena by surprise by coming to her lab and showing interest in her research. In short order the Muggle-born girl became a very valuable assistant. She was quick to find resources in the library and enjoyed the logic and order of the mathematical applications.  
  
Even more surprising was her assistance to Severus. When Rowena was involved with Harry's Occlumency lessons, Hermione went instead to Severus's lab and assisted in brewing potions. He had objected strenuously to this at first, but soon found that it was Madam Pomfrey who had sent her. Poppy apparently decided that if Severus was too busy to make a supply of blood-replenishing potions, he obviously needed assistance. No one—not even Severus—could rationally argue that the Hermione lacked the capability to do it.  
  
Harry had told Hermione why it was that Professor Snape particularly needed the blood-replenishing potion. Hermione made a large batch and delivered it to Madam Pomfrey as Severus instructed. She tried to leave a dose surreptitiously in the cabinet for him, but he found it and made her take that as well. She counted the vials when next she delivered potions to the hospital wing, and was concerned to find that all the doses were still there. For some reason he was refusing to take it.  
  
Occlumency with Harry was progressing smoothly. He became stronger each session, and Rowena found that her own Occlumency was improving significantly as well. It was definitely a discipline that benefited from rigorous practice!  
  
The sessions did give Harry and Rowena a deeper level of understanding of each other. It was hard, even when one was being as considerate as possible, not to see SOME things when the shield was finally breached. Rowena began to feel more compassion for the boy who had spent his early childhood unwanted and unloved; for all the things he had been through; for the dangers he still faced. Still, she didn't want him to fall into the trap of using his hard life as an excuse for irresponsible behavior.  
  
He was rigidly concealing things from her, that much was certain. She did not force the issue or betray his trust, but she was by no means certain that Harry Potter's rule-breaking days were over.  
  
Harry, for his part, was forced to see important figures in his life from an entirely different viewpoint and he did not like it. Rowena's memories of and emotions towards key people were precisely opposite of his and it was uncomfortable to see them from her perspective. Still, the lessons were useful and so he tried to deal with his disgust.  
  
He had not overcome his determination to find out exactly what it was that Snape was up to.  
  
Dylan seemed to be conducting classes effectively and efficiently in spite of his appearance. He had set up obstacle courses, speed and accuracy exercises, and maintained calm order in his classes without difficulty. None of the students had a word of complaint against him. Nothing obvious had come from his 'arrangements' with "Luke"—yet.  
  
Severus and Rowena were glad of the Weasley's presence in the castle, even if it was due to such unfortunate circumstances. They saw Katrina several times a day, sometimes separately, sometimes together. In the peaceful security of the castle they found moments of blissful serenity and enjoyed each one to the fullest.

* * *

Almost three weeks to the day from the previous request, Harry heard Draco telling Crabbe and Goyle that his mother wanted him to 'order' more of her potion. Hermione had told Harry that Snape hadn't used the blood- replenishing potion. It was time for action.  
  
It was Friday evening once again. Harry, in his invisibility cloak, used an Extendable Ear to hear the wards Snape used on his door as he sealed himself inside, and then ran off to Gryffindor tower. The timing of this had to be perfect.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, whispered words could be heard from apparently empty space in front of the door to the potions lab. The door swung open wide, then very quickly shut again and glowed briefly as the wards were replaced.  
  
Severus looked up from his cauldron, moisture already beading on his face from the steam. He stood stock-still and wary, quickly dropping his Dark Wand into his hand and holding it at the ready. His look of tense suspicion gave way to cold fury as six figures materialized in front of him from beneath three invisibility cloaks: a Weasley twin with Hermione Granger, the other twin with his sister Ginny, and Ron Weasley with Harry.  
  
"Get out of this lab at once," he snarled acidly, his deep voice biting off each word. "Fifty..."  
  
"Before you start docking us house points, Professor, I think you'd better listen to why we're here," said Harry, casually. "I imagine Rowena would about have kittens if she knew what you were doing."  
  
He met Snape's eyes calmly, his arms crossed defiantly.  
  
"You will not show disrespect for your Professors in this room, Potter," Snape growled, "PROFESSOR Lupin does not feel the need to spy on me or sneak around where she doesn't belong. You had better explain yourself quickly before I have four of the six of you expelled from this school! I would have expected this sort of underhanded behavior from you, Potter. I am unpleasantly surprised that you managed to drag so many of your fellow students down with you."  
  
"Professor Snape," Hermione interjected, stepping in front of Harry before things escalated. "We want to help you. You can't keep bleeding yourself for this potion—it's not safe! I don't know why you wouldn't take the blood-replenisher, but I know enough of Muggle science from my parents to know that three weeks is too soon to lose that much blood again."  
  
Severus glared maliciously at each of them in turn. Ron, Ginny, and even Hermione all looked away, suitably cowed. The twins no longer felt any sense of subordination for him, being out of school. They merely grinned cheerfully as though they were waiting to make a new prank item. Potter; well, Potter was far too arrogant and beyond the reach of authority in any sense.  
  
He addressed Hermione as the only reasonably intelligent one of the group. His voice had dropped to the smooth, silken tones that cloaked his rage.  
  
"Granger, explain what you know, and what you propose by this intrusion into areas that do NOT concern you."  
  
Hermione blushed and was visibly shaking from head to toe. But she spoke quickly, presenting her argument with concise logic. She had been spending far too much time with Rowena!  
  
"Fred and George told us about Katrina when she first moved in with them. We sort of worked out what the potion was by talking it over together. Harry accidentally overheard Draco asking you to make the potion for his mother the night before the Burrow was attacked. Madam Pomfrey told me you needed a blood-replenishing potion and wouldn't use her last one when she asked me to help you brew in my free time. I counted the potions and know you still haven't used one, even though there are plenty now. Harry heard Draco tell Crabbe and Goyle that he was supposed to ask you for more of the potion today in the Great Hall."  
  
She paused for breath, but quickly continued before he could interrupt, "I think you make the potion yourself so that the Death Eaters or whoever won't find another child and do what they did to Katrina. I am guessing that something about the blood-replenisher weakens the effect of the ingredient or something, and that's why you won't take it."  
  
Snape frowned at her silently as she spoke. When she paused again he raised a brow and inclined his head slightly, grudgingly impressed with the accuracy of her surmises. "You have explained what you think you know. You have not explained why this dubious 'knowledge' justifies illegal entrance into my lab after hours."  
  
"Gee, Snape, we'd have thought that was obvious," one of the twins said, jovially. "I mean, you're always the one to complain when the students don't reason stuff out fast enough. We're here as your official blood- donors! If what Hermione figures is all correct, then you can't stop making the potion, and you can't go on indefinitely using your own blood. So, here we are. Cool, huh?"  
  
Snape's eyes widened in surprise, and then his scowl deepened as five of the six before him nodded earnestly. Potter merely scowled back.  
  
"No! Absolutely not! I will refrain from taking house points and awarding detentions if you leave this instant; but only so long as I never hear a word of this again. Go," he said imperiously.  
  
Now Harry stepped forward again. It was then that Severus realized that his Occlumency had indeed improved. The arrogant boy was staring him down, yet he could detect nothing beyond the characteristic defiant disrespect.  
  
"Sorry, Professor—it's not going to work that way. After working the last month on Occlumency and Legilimency with Rowena, I know her well enough to know she wouldn't be too happy if she found out about this..." Harry said with a smirk, allowing the thought to trail off.  
  
Hermione squeaked in alarm and put a placating hand on Harry's arm, "Professor, what Harry means is...."  
  
"What Potter means is if I don't agree to allow you lot to 'donate' he will run off and tattle to Professor Lupin. A Potter sinking to blackmail; you are more and more like your father every day, boy," he spat through an ugly sneer, clearly making every word an insult.  
  
Severus noticed Potter's glance turning frequently to the low cabinet that contained his Dark Magic books. He found it disturbing—the cabinet had wards on it intended to make it unnoticeable. Potter could plainly see it, and evidently felt the draw of the magic within strongly enough to be unable to resist glancing at it. The implications of the chaotic boy wielding Dark Magic were too horrifying to consider!  
  
Ron and Ginny had been standing quietly, both blushing as only redheads can do. Ginny was Prefect this year as well. Severus looked silently at each of them in turn. He knew the Weasleys' concern was genuine. They had been with Katrina enough to feel concerned for her welfare. He could not deny the truth of Hermione's suppositions—that bloody girl was too clever by half! He also had to face logically that it would be helpful and less dangerous to spread the burden among others. With the notable exception of Potter, he felt the kids were reasonably trustworthy.  
  
"Very well; I will allow you to 'donate' as you say. The boys only," he said in his 'teaching voice', holding up his hand against the protests of Ginny and Hermione.  
  
"The blood volume required is too much, you two don't weigh enough. I will not permit this to become a safety issue. Granger, you will continue to make the blood-replenishing potion. With five of us donating, we will be able to use it. As long as a minimum of eight weeks pass between using the replenishing potion and using the blood, it will not interfere with this potion."  
  
He removed a blank parchment from his desk and muttered something they could not hear over it. He then set it before them on the desk, with an ink pot and quill. "You will each sign that, swearing that what you know will not be revealed to anyone else. It is magically binding. If you break your Oath, I will know."  
  
"What happens if we break the Oath?" asked Ginny, obviously remembering the vivid purple boils on Marietta Edgecombe last year.  
  
"Nothing fatal, Miss Weasley, I assure you. Also nothing externally obvious," Snape said smoothly. But he had a dark, very evil smirk on his face as he regarded them. "I would not want it betrayed to others that you have made such an Oath, or to be obvious to outsiders that an Oath had been broken. However, you are right to fear that the consequences are every bit as unpleasant as I can make them."  
  
"And what if we refuse to sign?" asked Harry aggressively.  
  
"Then, Mr. Potter, I will Obliviate you here and now," he said with the same evil smile. "I would advise against that option. I have no great skill in Obliviation. I would be forced to make sure that all memory of this potion and the thought processes leading up to your interfering discovery are completely removed. Such extensive work in the hands of anyone less than a master can have permanent consequences."  
  
He then shrugged, and feigned a friendly air that was somehow more sinister than the evil countenance, "But, the choice is yours, of course."  
  
Without further hesitation they all signed the parchment. He picked it up and sealed it in a drawer.  
  
"Right-oh," said George when the last one had signed. Severus always had to observe them closely for several minutes before he could be certain which twin was which. George was already rolling up his sleeve, tucking his invisibility cloak into a pocket. He caught Snape's frowning gaze as he did this and tossed him a careless grin.  
  
"Fred and I bought the cloaks almost first thing after our profits started rolling in. Devilishly useful! Bloody expensive, but worth every Galleon!"  
  
"Undoubtedly. I will not hesitate to confiscate them if I see them in or near any of my rooms again—or Professor Lupin's for that matter. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Well," said Fred, grinning as brightly as George. "We sort of figured you'd want us to use them to get down here when you needed us for the potion. Rowena might get suspicious if she sees us wandering around down here too often. We're not exactly mates or anything."  
  
Severus conceded that particular point, but as the potion was nearing the stage where the blood had to be added, there was no more time for argument or conversation. George stepped over to the cauldron and Severus produced the long, thin knife. He held it out to George, a brow raised inquiringly.  
  
"Nah, you'd better do it. I'm not chicken or anything, but I don't know if I'd hit the right spot," he said with a shake of his head.  
  
"Very well. Sit there," he gestured to one of the tall four-legged stools near the worktable, "keep your arm still and over the cauldron. I will seal the wound when I've had enough. Granger—take one of those bloody cloaks and bring a blood replenishing potion."  
  
He then sliced quickly and cleanly into the artery at George's wrist and had no attention for anything else.  
  
When Hermione returned she had not one, but two doses of the replenishing potion. She gave one to George and one to Snape. He scowled at her, but she did not back down this time. She merely stood there watching him intently until he gave a snort of disgust and drank the damn thing.  
  
"Now get out!"  
  
Carefully disappearing under the three cloaks, they quickly left. All were fully aware that they had stretched the very limits of the dubious patience of Severus Snape!

* * *

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright—Rowena had persuaded him to place enchanted windows around his quarters. He woke in the amazing comfort of Rowena's body twined with his, feeling contented and warm in spite of the chill of his dungeons. By some unspoken agreement they had slept together every night since the attack on the Burrow.  
  
They had not consummated their relationship—he was not prepared to take that step yet. He was determined that he would come to her as untainted as he possibly could be; that he would be fully prepared to give her what there was of his heart and soul completely and utterly. He wanted to feel he DESERVED her.  
  
He had even refrained from stoking the barely banked fires of their passion further. Blissful kisses and gentle caresses were exchanged, of course, but he did not let them become desperate. Even his iron control was sorely tested as it was, but he refused to behave like some adolescent schoolboy driven by the urges of his body. She deserved more respect than that. Still, it was easier simply to avoid temptation.  
  
The primary obstacle that he still felt before him, the thing that prevented him taking that significant step, was the Dark Magic. He hated his own weakness, but he recognized it for what it was. Somehow, he needed to be certain that he would not yield to THAT temptation, before he could allow himself to yield to the much pleasanter one she offered. He did not know how to achieve that certainty. He simply knew that when the hold on him was gone... he would know.  
  
Severus couldn't shake the sense of foreboding, knowing that Potter had seen his Dark Magic cabinet. After the kids had left his lab yesterday, he realized that it was likely that Potter had been in his lab and seen him open the cabinet the previous time he had made the potion. Severus recognized the burning desire for vengeance and the bitter anger that enshrouded the boy. This coupled with his complete disregard for any authority what so ever, made him a particularly volatile individual. Potter was especially vulnerable to the seductive promise of the Dark Magic whether he knew it or not.  
  
Rowena woke in his arms and snuggled against him, kissing his chin and looking into his eyes. She smiled as she kissed him gently, reaching a hand up to rub his furrowed brow. "You're thinking dark thoughts, Severus. Anything I can help with?"  
  
He smirked and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. "No. Just 'brooding' as you say."  
  
"Hmmm," she murmured against his lips. She sat up then and grinned down at him. "Well, enough brooding for one day. It's probably beastly cold outside, but at least it's sunny. Let's take Katrina to Hagrid's. He said he'd show her a unicorn, and she's dying to see one."  
  
He agreed, and they did. The child was enchanted with the creature. Hagrid even put her on its back where she giggled and squealed in delight. Eventually she allowed herself to be taken back inside for lunch. Rowena took her then back to the Weasley's quarters for her nap, as she and Severus both had research they wanted to work on.

* * *

When she returned to her lab, she was surprised to find Severus had shut and warded his doors. She knocked, and after a few moments the wards fell and the door opened on its own. She shut it and sealed it behind her.  
  
He was sitting, not at his workstation where she expected to find him, but on a chair facing a low cabinet that she somehow had never noticed before. He was leaning forwards, his elbows on his knees, his folded hands in front of him, just staring at the cabinet. His lank black hair hung forward, completely obscuring his face from her view.  
  
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then at the cabinet he was facing. There was something strange about the cabinet and suddenly she thought she understood.  
  
"Brooding, Severus? How unlike you," she teased, trying to lighten his mood.  
  
He made a derisive noise and shrugged, "Indeed."  
  
"Why are you brooding here in front of this cabinet, Severus? Are you trying to prove yourself weak or strong?"  
  
"Rowena, please, this is not the time," he said almost wearily.  
  
"I think it is exactly the time," she said with some asperity. "You are sitting here, staring at your precious collection of Dark Magic wondering if you are strong enough or weak enough to destroy it or control it, and trying to determine which action would be the weak or the strong. I think I'm pretty close to the mark, am I not?"  
  
He stood with the graceful speed of a striking snake and glared down at her, "And if I am? I think it would be best if you leave. I have decided to deal with the contents of that cabinet today. I am done being tempted by it. I will either destroy the contents or give myself over to it at last. Even now I have no idea which I will choose. You will not be safe here if I choose the latter."  
  
"I am not afraid of you," she said simply.  
  
He angrily grabbed her arms and shook her gently, though it was obvious that he wished to shake her until her teeth rattled, "You should be, Rowena. You should be very, very afraid. You have no idea what I am capable of, should I succumb to the lure."  
  
He pulled her close suddenly, crushing her almost viciously against him and kissed her. It was a harsh, savage, biting thing intended to cause pain, full of doubt and rage as well as weeks of pent up passion. He expected her to push him away and run screaming in fear... he wanted her to believe he would even be capable of rape if he embraced the Dark Magic again.  
  
Instead she wrapped her arms tightly around him and kissed back, with equal savagery. For long, breathless moments they battled with teeth and tongues and mouths. He tasted blood without knowing or caring if it was his or hers, and merely kissed her more aggressively still, shocked at how quickly his body switched from anger to fiery passion; and at how quickly she matched his passion fully with her own.  
  
He realized then that she truly was not afraid of him—it wasn't just abstract words but a true and total trust. It was a blinding epiphany no less life changing than when he had chosen to leave the Dark Lord years ago, or Moody's comments as to "your family" at the Burrow. She had displayed her faith and trust in him again and again in words and deeds. Finally, it reached him as a solid, undeniable truth.  
  
Somehow, in spite of his past and even present actions, he had gained the absolute trust of a fellow human being, not only her love—but also her TRUST; someone who trusted in his core strength and goodness even when he himself doubted its existence. He released her suddenly and stepped away abruptly.  
  
She stood her ground, gingerly licking a trace of blood from her lips, but staring at him with passion and defiance. "I believe in you, Severus. I am not afraid."  
  
He merely nodded in silent acquiescence and waved his wand at the cabinet. The doors sprung open as though pushed from some powerful creature within, and then even Rowena felt the seduction of the power contained inside.  
  
He stared at the tomes and scrolls inside for a silent moment. He then picked up one of the smaller books. Rowena recognized it at once as the one he had tried to give her in her second year. The one he had stolen from his father that was first taste of Dark Magic.  
  
She watched his face intently. It was an impassive mask. He flipped the book open and thumbed through it carelessly, as one might look at a book in a store or library when deciding what to read. He then looked up at Rowena, and his eyes were dark and stormy with some unknown emotion. But he smiled slightly at her, and she breathed easier.  
  
"It seems I miscalculated. I believe I once told you that my longing for this magic was similar to my longing for you in the height of my desire."  
  
He strode over to his empty fireplace and with a word there was a roaring fire within. With a casual gesture he tossed the book into the heart of the flames.  
  
"That appears to have been a gross overestimation on my part."  
  
She smiled radiantly at him and nodded; though she said nothing. She was too overwhelmed by emotion for words. Instead she watched him silently as he one-by-one removed each book from the cabinet. He paused with each one and flipped through it with an air of bemusement, as though what he expected to find inside the pages was not there. He then purposefully strode to the fire and cast it in.  
  
The parchment rolls he sorted through with the bored air of sifting through homework and essays to find one worth reading. He was forced to keep the potions recipes for the time being—he still needed to use those in his dual role. These he moved to a different storage space and carefully warded it. The spell pages he deliberately cast into the fire.  
  
At last the final item was in flames. Another flick of his wand disintegrated the cabinet to fine dust, which he swept up and also poured into the fire. It was merely a gesture. The absence of the books and spells did not mean he could not be tempted by the Dark Magic again. What it DID do was to prove to himself that the temptation was nothing to him anymore; the Dark Magic truly had no hold over him. He was free of it.  
  
He turned to look at her. He stood straight and tall with an air of pride and triumph about him that she had never known before. She smiled through tears and threw her arms around him. He pulled her close and leaned his cheek against her hair.  
  
"I knew you were stronger than that. I knew it wouldn't have any hold on you anymore. You just didn't believe in yourself."  
  
He sighed and squeezed her tighter for a moment. "It would seem you were correct. Though I doubt I would have been goaded into the attempt by anything less than your constant haranguing."  
  
She laughed lightly then and looked up at him, "Well, if you insist on being irritable and stubborn, I have to harangue to get you listen."  
  
"Very well. Point granted. I am irritable and stubborn. That certainly won't change."  
  
"I wouldn't want it to. Severus..." she reached her hand into his hair and pulled her to him, kissing him ardently.  
  
He picked her up easily and carried her to her quarters through their connecting doors, sealing the doors behind him. He gently deposited her on the couch but she protested... "Severus... please... the bedroom... I want ..."  
  
But he shook his head and sat down next to her, looking at her with a very serious expression. "No Rowena. This is not the time."  
  
He smiled slightly at her groan of frustration but continued, "I want to talk about this. I won't sully the gift of your faith in me by offering you anything less than a total, permanent commitment. Why you might consent to such a thing is completely beyond my comprehension, but you deserve to be treated with the highest respect I am capable of...."  
  
"Yes, Severus," she interrupted him.  
  
"Do not interrupt me, Lupin..." he began, irritated, but then surprised, he asked, "Yes? You don't even know what you are agreeing to. I'm trying to figure out how to ask you to..."  
  
"Yes, Severus, I will marry you." She said again, simply.  
  
He shook his head in bemusement and played absently with a strand of her hair, "It's not safe right now, Rowena. You are currently still high on the Dark Lord's agenda. Your notes for the Azkaban shields and wards that I was forced to give him recently have increased his awareness of you. If he knew how important you are to me, that risk would become even greater. I have no idea how long it might be before we could marry. Be careful what you are agreeing to."  
  
"Severus, you don't understand. I love you. I know you don't hold any faith in that word or the emotion it represents, but I love you none the less. There has never been and will never be any other man for me. I will be with you, married or not, or I will be alone. There is no other option. I would be honored, delighted, thrilled to be your wife. It would answer every wild dream of my heart. But I don't need it. I only need you. I love you."  
  
He looked at her in disbelieving silence for a moment, and then kissed her tenderly. Hoping, somehow, to convey in actions the emotions he couldn't express in words.  
  
Her body responded to him instantly. She leaned back onto the couch, pulling him with her. Weeks and weeks he had stoked and then banked the fires of their passion, always holding them back. She was in agony of need and thought he was likely in a similar state. But already she could sense him withdrawing, trying to tame his desire, but she pulled him closer. Instead he trailed hot kisses down her neck, driving her desire higher.  
  
"Please, Severus. No more waiting." Her voice was breathless and panting with the urgent responses of her body. She arched up against him so that her hip was rubbing suggestively against his obvious hardness. "I have waited my entire life for you... please... make me yours, Severus."  
  
He groaned against her neck, his own breathing barely less erratic than hers. Still, he had spent years forcing himself to suppress emotions, and this was simply one more emotion to control. He sat up again on the couch, pulling her up with him, and shaking his head until he could get his voice under control. "When we are married..."  
  
She was still breathless, but there was more than a tinge of irritation in her voice as well, "I refuse to believe you have such a romantic or moral streak, Severus Snape! You said yourself there's no way to know how long it might be. I'll burn up and die before then!"  
  
He took her hand in his and looked sideways at her. He smirked and kissed her hand, "Not moral or romantic, Rowena, perhaps; but honor and respect, hmm? You deserve both. You deserve more than I am probably capable of giving you. But this, at least, I can do.  
  
"It's important to me, Rowena. I don't know if I can ever adequately reciprocate or fully deserve your affections. I don't know if I can ever overcome my past enough to give you children. I don't think I will ever feel as though I completely deserve your trust and faith in me. This one thing, I can make sure occurs in the best and most honorable way. It rather deserves special treatment, does it not?"  
  
She smiled at him then, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Her voice was hoarse, but her words were light and teasing, "All right, Severus. You win that one. But call it what you like, the truth remains that no one has ever said anything more romantic to me in my life."  
  
He snorted derisively and stood, pulling her with him and holding her close, "Call it romantic if you choose. Perhaps it is merely my way of delaying for as long as possible my becoming related to a werewolf, even through marriage."  
  
She gave small laugh. "Well, there is that."  
  
Still, he could see the disappointment in her eyes. Why was he really holding back? What was he waiting for—the Dark Lord to be vanquished? If Potter was truly the one destined to do that, they could waste their entire lives waiting! These last few weeks with her had taught him at least to live in the moment.  
  
Enough of this! Severus Snape had heaven personified standing in his arms right now. Who was he to shun this gift so sweetly offered?  
  
"Rowena, meet me in Albus's office in one hour. Do not tell anyone where you are going, do not bring anyone with you, and for Merlin's Sake don't be late!" he commanded suddenly with an air of deep resolve.  
  
She looked at him in confusion, "Albus's office? Why?"  
  
"Because, my sweet fool, I have changed my mind. I intend to marry you before you slip away. The only way to keep you safe as my wife is if no one knows. Later, when it's safe to reveal our marriage, I will indulge you in some sort of formal ceremony if you wish it, provided it is very small! Now, do we wed today or not?"  
  
"Oh, yes!" she said breathlessly. "Albus's office. One hour."  
  
He gave a small nod and briskly left her quarters.

* * *

There wasn't time for fancy dresses or elaborate hairdos. Anything out of the ordinary would rouse suspicion in anyone she met between her quarters and Albus's office. Still she showered and changed into some dark green dress robes. She couldn't give him a ring now in light of the necessary secrecy he insisted upon. She determined to choose the perfect one as soon as it was safe to do so!  
  
She was in Albus's office with fifteen minutes to spare. He was beaming brightly when she entered his office, almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. He hugged her warmly and drew her towards the fireplace.  
  
"Rowena, I am so very delighted for you both! I need to tell you that Severus has requested a Bonding Ritual as part of your ceremony," he said at once.  
  
"Bonding?" Rowena knew what a Bonding was, but felt momentarily confused as to why Severus would request it. A Bonding was a permanent, deep connection between two people that could be broken only in death. It enabled the Bonded pair to consciously be aware of the other's deepest feelings and emotions—not thoughts, not mind reading, but a pure connection at the most primitive emotional level. Time and distance did not matter; the Bonded pair could choose to be aware of their mate's emotion at any time. There was some level of control of it, similar to Occlumency, and one could shield oneself from sending emotions once Bonded, but only with conscious effort.  
  
It was a deeply intimate and personal connection, rarely performed anymore in these times of frequent divorces and short-term relationships. Severus was an incredibly private man. That he would not only be willing to share such a connection with her, but would actually request it, was nearly overwhelming.  
  
"I think, Rowena, that we both know Severus is not a man to speak of or express emotion easily. I believe he has come to love you very deeply. I don't know if he will ever be able to say in words what he feels for you. The Bonding Ritual is his way of making sure you KNOW how he feels for you, even if he is never able to TELL you."  
  
Rowena beamed at him through happy tears, and nodded. "Of course."  
  
"Then you consent? The Ritual can only be completed if both parties consent to it fully."  
  
"Yes, absolutely," she said, without hesitation.  
  
He smiled and drew out a long-stemmed white rose. Many of the petals were already moist with slowly drying blood. He held out the rose, and his hand, "I'm sorry to say that many of these ancient rituals had a hint of darkness in them. Usually only the darkest magic requires human blood, but this... this symbolizes the mingling of your life essence."  
  
She gave him her hand, and he gently pricked her left thumb with one of the thorns, and then dripped the blood over the rose, so that it did indeed mingle with the blood—Severus's blood—already there. He then healed her thumb with a word and kissed her gently on her forehead.  
  
Severus entered the room then and Rowena stood to greet him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside of her. She was about to marry the only man she had ever loved! She beamed radiantly at him. He gazed at her inscrutably and came directly to her, taking her hand. They were both surprised to find the other one trembling. He squeezed her hand gently, though if it was to reassure her or himself, he couldn't have said. Albus cleared his throat and began the ceremony.  
  
Even in this, Severus had apparently requested the relatively traditional. There are few real differences between secular Muggle weddings and Wizard ones, and Albus, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was legally authorized to officiate at any wizarding marriage. In this particular case he would keep the documentation secret until it was safe to be known, but that would not affect the legality of the union.  
  
Severus did present her with a ring, which surprised her greatly. Apparently the rumor of their engagement spread by Rita Skeeter was enough to justify the ring without revealing the true relationship. It was a thick band of gold with a very large, perfect diamond solitaire. It was no ordinary diamond though, but a Fire-Stone—a wizarding gem that is extremely rare. On first glance it looked like a normal, though exceptionally flawless, round diamond. Upon closer examination, it was revealed to literally flame from within, causing the stone to flare with the spectrum of red and gold of a fire. It was a symbol to the wizarding community of undying love and passion, the fire that can never be extinguished.  
  
She gasped when she saw it, overcome with the meaning, and her eyes flew to his face. He looked into her eyes and allowed her to see a brief glimpse of the depth of emotion he felt for her, squeezing her hand again gently.  
  
Albus brought forward the white rose, the blood on its petals having dried to nearly black, and placed it in their clasped hands so it was between them. He then performed the bonding ritual. Magical slivery chords sprouted from his wand as he chanted the ancient incantation. They began at the rose and then spread outwards at the direction of his wand; crisscrossing and connecting them like a silvery web. The first strands flew from the rose to their hearts, and then began quickly to form intricate patterns between them, eventually surrounding them in a glowing silver cocoon. At the completion of the ritual, the rose burst into flame and was consumed instantly, and the magical chords vanished from sight.  
  
Rowena closed her eyes briefly and gasped again at the sheer flood of emotion that she felt from him the instant the ritual was completed. She had known Severus was not a man to do anything half-heartedly. His deep intensity in everything he did was as much a part of him as his strong nose and lank black hair. She should have realized that this part of him would carry over to his emotional life as well. Yet she was still stunned that somehow she had inspired in him emotion of this magnitude.  
  
She literally felt as though his love was a physical, palpable thing; as though it was a soft warm blanket that completely wrapped her soul in warm safety. Never would she have imagined that being loved by Severus Snape would be such an intensely fulfilling thing! Her heart was full of him, and she opened herself to receiving his love as well as to shower him with hers.  
  
When she opened her eyes again, nothing externally had changed. This was odd, to her. She felt as though there should be stars and fireworks and singing fairies and all manner of momentous external happenings to match what had just occurred inside of her.  
  
Albus was still saying the final words of their ceremony. Severus still stared at her with his fathomless black eyes, his face an expressionless mask. Yet his hands had tightened imperceptibly on hers, and her heart pounded in time with his.  
  
She was vaguely aware of Albus's voice, "It is my very great privilege to tell you that you are now husband and wife, Severus and Rowena Snape."  
  
He pulled her instantly into his arms and kissed her very tenderly, and very briefly. It was an odd dichotomy! She could feel his lips brush hers in the chaste kiss that seemed a traditional part of the ritual, yet their Bond allowed her to feel the barely contained desire that burned within him and matched hers.  
  
He turned and shook hands with Albus, thanking him sincerely, and receiving Albus's warmest congratulations with his usual implacable grace. Through the Bond, she felt his sincere pleasure at the approbation of his friend; she felt the true extent to which he did indeed consider Albus his friend. Rowena hugged Albus and thanked him through tears of happiness that she hadn't been able to wholly contain. He gave her another whiskery kiss on her cheek this time and chivvied them out of the room on pretense of having work to do.

* * *

A/N: Sorry guys.... I promised to give my 'smut' separate chapters so that those who wanted to avoid reading it could do so. (Why anyone would want to avoid it is beyond me, but hey...) Also, some of the sites where I am posting this fic do not allow 'lemons', so this makes it easier for me to leave those chapters out without spoiling the flow of the story.  
  
Next chapter will be pure 'lemon', very little if any plot. It is currently in its second revision and should be ready by approximately Saturday the15th of May. If you are reading this on a site that does not allow me to post the 'lemon', and you want to read it, you can email me and I will send you the link to the site that has it. (wink) Please put "lemon request" in the subject line so I know it's a legitimate email. I am brutal with the use of my delete key. I hate spam!  
  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come, happy reading!  
  
Lisa/Shanti 


	23. Chapter 23: Consummation

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
WARNING!!!! This chapter is the consummation of their marriage. If you don't like smut, please skip this and move on to the next chapter! If you are reading this on FFN you are reading a highly edited version (over four pages of MS Word removed to be exact). You will need to email me if you want to have the link to the juicier 'lemon'. Please put "Lemon" in the subject line of your email. In spite of the edit, there is still heavily implied intimacy here.  
  
Thank you for the comments and concerns given over the previous chapter of this all being a little sudden. Some of you think it's too sudden, while others are telling me 'it's about time'. Heh. I guess I can't please everyone. (wink)  
  
Seriously, though, I will go back and see how I can edit to make things flow more smoothly. I assure you that this was planned from the beginning... This has been inevitable even to Severus's mind since chapter 8, though he has been trying hard to deny it to himself and to her. The last several chapters in particular were supposed to show his decreasing self-disgust that has always been the primary barrier between them.  
  
However, I have apparently arrived here rather clumsily if it has taken so many of my readers by surprise. I truly appreciate the honest comments, as I am always looking to improve the story as a whole.  
  
I think I would have been facing mutiny if I had tried to hold it off much longer. (LOL) These two individuals are definitely 'all or none' sort of people. I apologize to anyone who is disappointed at this development... I am a romantic at heart, what other excuse can I offer? I promise I will not allow Snape to become mushy. My Betas are great at keeping me in line.  
  
Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and Padfoot the Marauder! (As well as suggestions from two of our husbands!) We redid this chapter several times. We really felt it had to be PERFECT and their comments and suggestions enriched it greatly. I hope you enjoy!  
  
Lisa/Shanti

* * *

Chapter 23: Consummation

* * *

Severus tucked her hand very properly into his arm as they left Albus's office, speaking to her in low tones.  
  
"I will not ask you to live in the dungeons; I realize that not everyone enjoys the rather dark atmosphere. If you have no objections, we will reside in your quarters until the house is finished."  
  
She tried not to giggle at his formal attitude, especially when she could feel his nervous excitement that matched her own. "What house?"  
  
"Our house, of course—we can't continue to live exclusively at Hogwarts indefinitely. We will discuss this later. Right now I am trying to determine whether we are going to your quarters or mine?"  
  
She blushed and shivered at the tone of his voice and the desire she felt from him, very thinly controlled. "Mine, then. It's closer."  
  
He gave a brief nod of acquiescence, "Very well."  
  
She looked at her ring glittering in the candlelight of the hallway and couldn't resist the question, "How long have you had this ring? Do you think I should wear it after all your talk of secrecy?"  
  
He gave her a rather smug smile. "I have had it several days, though I ordered it after the fire. It's a rare stone and took some time to acquire. And yes, I want you to wear it. That Skeeter woman essentially announced our engagement; so, let the world think we are engaged. There is no new danger in wearing the ring. Maybe it will be a deterrent to the likes of Cowboy Bill."  
  
She did giggle then and squeezed his arm as she felt the possessive male pride he had for her through their Bond. He wanted to 'mark' her as his own in some demonstrable way, and she was not the least averse to being 'marked'.  
  
He walked the rest of the way in silence, but when she opened her door he again revealed his hidden traditional, old-fashioned streak. He stopped her, picked her up with ease and carried her inside. Her excitement was heightened by the very primitively MALE sensations she felt from him—his primitive possessiveness that washed over her so that she was trembling in anticipation.  
  
He gently let her down so that she was standing against him once inside. With a negligent wave of his wand, the door was closed and sealed. He pulled her close to him, but looked at her inquiringly when he felt her trembling, "Are you cold?"  
  
"No," she said, breathlessly, winding her fingers into his hair and pulling him down to her for a kiss. "Not cold—burning. Make me well and truly your wife, Severus."  
  
He kissed her hungrily, a groan of desire escaping him against her lips as he pulled her tightly against him, making her fully aware of his arousal as well. He wound his hands through the cascading silken mass of her hair and held her close.  
  
For long, silent moments he kissed her hungrily, standing there. The amazing Bond they now shared heightened her awareness of him. His desire was no less than hers was, yet he seemed hesitant, almost reluctant. If Rowena had had to give it a word, she would have said he seemed suddenly shy of her!  
  
"Severus?" she asked, pulling back slightly and looking uncertainly into his face.  
  
He gave her a small, wry smile and sighed against her cheek as he pulled her close. "I dislike feeling awkward and inexperienced, Rowena. It is a strange experience for me. I think it is a common male concern—that one might be a disappointment to one's partner, is it not?"  
  
She shook her head and began to place hot tasting kisses at the sensitive joining of his neck and shoulder, "You are never awkward, Severus. We will learn together. There is no possible way you could disappoint me. Well, other than by refusing me now!"  
  
He actually chuckled very slightly at this, and scooped her up into his arms again. "Fear not, my bride. You will not suffer THAT disappointment tonight."  
  
She murmured contentedly against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her to the bed. He laid her down upon it gently and pulled off her shoes, barely more than slippers. The heat of his hands at her ankles gave her delightful tremors of anticipation. He kicked off his boots and joined her there, laying beside her and kissing her deeply.  
  
His hands caressed her body over the thin fabric of her dress robes. His lips left her mouth and began trailing hot nipping kisses down her throat to the sensitive area of her collarbone. His touch was gentle and exploring as his hands caressed her, patiently learning which touches brought sighs and moans of pleasure.  
  
His hand sought the gentle swell of her breast and thrilled to her sharp intake of breath as he toyed with the peak, gently tweaking it with his fingers. He was almost reverent in his slow exploration of her, refusing to rush or do anything less than savor every detail of her body.  
  
She was wild beside him. She matched him kiss for kiss as she nipped at his neck and ears, reveling in the warm, spicy scent of him; the feel of his firm, hard body crushed up against her softness. He had placed one thigh between her legs and her body instinctively writhed against him, the pressure of his leg against her mound giving her some small relief while driving her need higher.  
  
He rolled to his side, pulling her with him, his lips returning to her mouth in hungry, devouring kisses. He nipped and teased her bottom lip with teeth and tongue, drinking in her familiar sweetness. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and deftly undid the buttons down the back of her robes. The clasp of her wispy bra gave him a moment's pause, but he soon ascertained its mechanism and released it. When buttons and clasp were free, he rolled her back to her back and slowly drew off one sleeve and lacy shoulder strap, exposing her to his gaze.  
  
She made a move to dim the lighting, which was soft but still felt too bright in her shyness. He stopped her, "I want to see you," he said, his voice strange and husky. She blushed but acquiesced, bringing her arm back around him, her hands beginning on his buttons.  
  
His gaze was intense as he learned her body. The emotions pouring from him were equal parts loving tenderness, reverent awe and passionate desire. His warm, strong hands with their long, thin fingers gently caressed her exposed flesh, noting and learning and her responses.  
  
He reached across her and pulled the other arm out of sleeve and bra, casting the scrap of satin and lace aside. He registered a moment of wry humor that she wore such modest clothing, yet such a delicate, feminine undergarment. Her robes were now around her waist, her chest bare to him.  
  
He was vaguely aware of her tugging at the buttons of his shirt in frustration and he gave a feral grin. His hair fell forward and tickled her chest sensuously as he kissed her.  
  
She cried out and grabbed his hair, pushing his head harder against her in passion, her other hand still tugging at his shirt. "Severus," she moaned his name in desperation, "Severus, I love your buttons. Something about them is incredibly sexy. But right at this moment, they're maddening! Take this bloody shirt off!"  
  
Silently, he removed his shirt, sitting up so that his back was to her.  
  
She sat up so that she was behind him, her bare chest pressed against his back, her hands caressing, nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive nape of his neck, leaving hot trails of kisses along the exposed skin. Skin that was covered nearly everywhere in a web of fine scars—old scars from his childhood or perhaps Death Eater days, as well as the burn scars from the fire.  
  
His shoulders were broad, the muscles of his back firm and well defined, but the scars spoke volumes of his past. Slowly, deliberately, she traced each scar with gentle kisses and caresses; showering each one with tenderness as though she could somehow wash away the pain of his past with her love.  
  
She pulled him back to lie on the bed—it was her turn to look at him! His body was the thin, lightly muscled physique of a runner. His chest was also marred with old scars, fair-skinned and lightly covered with fine black hair. The Dark Mark on his left inner forearm shone black and ugly against his otherwise fair skin, and she felt his pang of shame through their Bond as he tried to conceal it from her view.  
  
She ran her fingers in a gentle caress over the Mark, and kissed him tenderly. She kissed the scars on his chest as well, showing him in action and emotion through their Bond what had been so hard for him to believe in words—that she loved and accepted him, wholly and completely, just as he was. Even the terrible Mark on his arm did not escape her kisses.  
  
Her heart filled with his adoration of her that he was broadcasting as loudly as though he was shouting it through a bullhorn. She suspected now that part of his drive to conceal and contain his emotions stemmed from their passionate, occasionally violent nature. That he was capable of great passion in his hatred and rage she had seen first-hand. That he was equally capable of deep love and ardent passion should not have come as a surprise. His relief and gratitude at her total acceptance of him seemed to ignite this passion to new heights.  
  
He rolled her back onto her back so he could lay over her and again shower her with kisses. He claimed her mouth, exploring the far corners with his tongue in a suggestive rhythm of thrusting and withdrawing, gently running it along her lip and then thrusting it against hers, tickling the inner recesses of her mouth.  
  
He resumed his assault on her body, ensnaring her senses with hot, nipping kisses down her neck, licking, sucking and nipping until she was nearly delirious with longing. He trailed his kisses further down her chest to her abdomen, his strong hands caressing, kneading, and stroking her soft skin.  
  
He found the zipper at the waist of her robes where the buttons had ended, and released it, pulling the skirt and her panties down from her in one smooth motion. She blushed again at his intensive gaze as he stared at her. But she felt no real embarrassment, only heightened desire as she felt his fierce passion increase just at the sight of her.  
  
She lay before him, naked except for her stockings and his ring on her finger. He felt that surge of primitive male pride and possessiveness, to know that she was HIS. Her gentle reassurances with words, touch, kisses and the flood of emotion that reached him through their Bonding had erased all his fears and doubts. Now he only wanted to savor every moment of this—their first union together.  
  
Her muff of hair was tawny, honey brown like that of her head. Her legs were slightly parted as he kneeled between them, and he could see the dewy pink flesh of her core. He leaned forward and began his exploration of kisses where he had left off, kissing her waist, her hips, always moving downwards. His hands caressed her thighs, and at last rolled off her stockings as he kissed each leg from inner thigh to toes and then back up again—maddeningly slowly. His hot, teasing kisses trailed fire over her body until she felt she was nothing but a burning core of desperate desire.  
  
She was writhing on the bed, soft whimpers of ardent longing escaping her, sometimes coherent enough to cry his name, pleadingly. He merely smiled and continued his attentions.  
  
She felt as though he was the Master Musician, and she his instrument; deftly played with mouth and hands to attain the perfect concerto. The tension inside her body was at a fever pitch, a deep ache deep inside her pelvis that was as exciting as it was uncomfortable. An ache created by him, for him, that only he could slake.  
  
She grabbed his hair and pulled him up to her, her eyes glazed with passion and yearning. She kissed him desperately, clawing at his remaining clothing, "Severus... Please... "  
  
He removed the rest of his clothing obligingly, and for a moment she merely pressed herself against him, reveling in the feel of his flesh against hers, and trying to find some level of control over her body's demands.  
  
She placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back onto the bed to begin her own exploration of kisses. She reveled in the warm, spicy scent of him and the feel of their naked bodies pressed together. His breathing was no less erratic than hers was. She slowly slid her body down the length of his, kissing him all the while.  
  
She caressed and kissed his legs. Runner's legs; long and thin with well- defined muscles, fine black hair, and ending in long, thin feet which were the perfect counterpart to his hands. She kissed her way back up his legs as he had done to her. This was all new and strange to her, yet she felt no embarrassment or fear, only eager curiosity to learn to touch him and give him pleasure as he had done to her.  
  
Suddenly he sat up and grabbed her, pushing her back onto the bed and holding her tightly, kissing her and plainly trying to regain control of the situation and his body. His breathing was as ragged as she had ever known; his entire body was tense and trembling slightly as he struggled mightily for control.  
  
She looked at him in surprise, but he shook his head and smiled slightly, "There was nothing wrong with that, Rowena... It was too good, okay? I don't want this to be over too soon..."  
  
She nodded and pulled him to her, "Severus, please..."  
  
But first he merely kissed her, winding hot kisses over her body once again. His desire was so high; his need so great, that he feared it would be over too quickly. He was also afraid of hurting her and wanted to do what he could to make her first time—their first time—easier for her.  
  
She met his eyes, unafraid, but with longing and need plain in every feature. At last, with careful tenderness, he answered the needs of her body, and of his.  
  
He didn't allow himself to collapse onto her, but rather rolled gently to the side and pulled her into his arms. She lay contentedly with her head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. The wonder of the experience, of their marriage, of their Bond that allowed her to know how he truly felt about her... it was almost overwhelming. She held him close and basked in the warm happiness that flooded her, even more blissful because she knew it was his as well as hers.  
  
He held her in awe and wonder, her warm soft skin melding perfectly with his. He twined his fingers through her masses of hair, reveling in the silky feel of it against his naked flesh as it fanned out over them.  
  
Severus Snape. Death Eater. Ugly bastard. Evil, greasy git. What else had been said about him? None of it was completely untrue, and certainly all of it proved his lack of charismatic appeal at the very least. Yet here he was: a pretty woman—his wife no less—lying happy and sated in his arms.

* * *

Eventually she leaned up on her arms to look down at him, and kissed him tenderly, "Let me get something decent on, and I'll order something from the house elves for supper."  
  
"Ah, now we come to the point that may well be our first argument as man and wife," he said very gravely, "Your lounging and sleeping attire leaves much to be desired. I would not be surprised to find that Minerva McGonagall wears more alluring nightwear than those shapeless sacks you call 'pajamas'. It is simply unacceptable for a new bride to wear such boring garments."  
  
"Severus!" she exclaimed, blushing pink, "My pajamas are quite nice! They are all lovely material and colors, and very comfortable. There's nothing wrong with them."  
  
"You think not?" he asked. He waved her away with his 'professor' voice. "Very well, demonstrate. Show me your favorite 'lovely' pajamas. I long to see them."  
  
Blushing brighter under his blatant scrutiny, she dressed in a pair of deep green silk pajamas, long-sleeved shirt and long pants. The color was very suitable for her, and the material was very fine. But they were in fact quite boringly modest. The shirt buttoned all the way to the throat, loose and roomy. Her slight form was well hidden in its folds.  
  
Severus sat at the edge of the bed, completely relaxed and unconcerned at his nakedness as he shook his dark head in mock disgust. He regarded her with careful scrutiny and pulled his wand from his robes on the floor.  
  
"Stand still, Rowena. My marks in Transfiguration were acceptable, but I admit it was the subject with which I had the most difficulty. However, I am confident that I can manage this without concern."  
  
Before she could object or determine what it was that he intended to do, her comfortable, concealing pajamas became a slinky, lacy, spaghetti- strapped nightgown, in the same green silk. It hugged her breasts and torso, plunged daringly in the front and back, and then flared at the waist into a full, flowing skirt. The lace over the bodice was quite indecent, being nearly transparent.  
  
"THAT, Mrs. Snape is lovely," he said with smug satisfaction. "Now I believe we can order that meal."

* * *

Severus refused to allow her to change his boring gray nightshirt into something more 'interesting'. The food, when it arrived, was not what they had ordered—sandwiches and pumpkin juice—but instead was steamed crab legs, Caesar's salad, champagne and strawberries with dipping chocolate. Rowena looked questioningly at Severus as she felt a wave of affection through their Bond that was not directed at her. He had an amused smirk on his face.  
  
"It seems Albus wished to do something to celebrate the occasion," he said dryly, but she could tell that the gesture pleased him.  
  
They ate the strawberries and chocolate sitting on the couch, and soon it became a sensual game rather than merely a dessert. He dipped a particularly plump berry into the chocolate and brought it to her lips, gazing intently at her mouth; a symphony of lips, teeth and tongue as she bit into the juicy fruit, then licked her lips to remove traces of chocolate.  
  
He would have liked to fit into the role of gallant lover. Surely a true gentleman would leave the poor woman alone so soon after breaching her, and give her time for any soreness to heal. The truth of the matter was that he wanted her, and the answering darkening of her eyes was invitation enough.  
  
He leaned forward and claimed her lips possessively, his tongue following the path that hers had made moments before, tasting the chocolate and the tang of the berry. She sighed against his lips and pulled him close so that her breasts pressed through the thin fabric of the transfigured gown to rub against his shirt, her body instantly responding to his kiss and touch.  
  
"Severus," she breathed his name reverently against his lips as he kissed her.  
  
"Mmmm?" he made an inquiring noise as he kissed and nibbled at her ears and neck.  
  
"Let's go to bed," she said breathlessly, shuddering slightly as he nipped a particularly sensitive area of her neck.  
  
He kissed her deeply, picked her up into his arms, and smirked, "What Mrs. Snape wishes, Mrs. Snape will have."  
  
She laughed lightly at his teasing gallantry. This was definitely something she would not have suspected—Severus Snape as a playful lover! Perhaps the unique, intimate nature of their Bond enabled him to feel a bit more relaxed.  
  
He deposited her gently on the edge of the bed, and in one smooth motion had removed her gown from her. Another fluid motion had him divested of his nightshirt as well. She slid under the covers against the chill and he joined her at once.  
  
This time he did not object when she dimmed the lights as he wrapped her possessively into his arms and kissed her deeply. In the darkness, the feel of flesh upon flesh intensified, and all traces of shyness vanished.  
  
Firm, strong hands stroked smooth, soft curves and valleys. Delicate, gentle hands stroked hard, hard ridges and angles. Mouths sought tender places, kissing and nipping. Ears longed for sounds of pleasure from the mate. Tongues tasted sweet kisses and perspiration induced saltiness. Legs tangled around legs.  
  
With less of the desperate urgency of their first union, they allowed their bodies to become merely vessels of sensation as their hearts reveled in the emotional symphony revealed by their Bond. Words were meaningless and unnecessary when heart could speak directly to heart. Severus felt awestruck and honored at the gift of her virginity, but that was nothing to the amazing gift he had given to both of them in requesting the Bond.  
  
At some point in their writhing and seeking, kissing and exploring, she slid one leg beneath him, around his waist, as they lay on their sides facing one another, and joined again. Their Bond allowed union of heart and body so that neither could have told where one body ended and the other began. They were wholly and completely ONE.  
  
It was long before it was spent. And longer still before the joyous afterglow left them any awareness of time or space. At some point they shifted positions enough that Rowena's leg was not pinned beneath Severus's waist. They kept their bodies entwined... it seemed only fitting that their physical bodies should match the perfect union of their souls.  
  
They did not speak. What could possibly be said that could at all do justice to what they had experienced? There was no need for words.  
  
Eventually, they slept.

* * *


	24. Chapter 24: Consequences and Reactions

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.  
  
Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 24: Consequences and Reactions

* * *

Warm sunlight fell across the two bodies entwined on the bed. He woke first and lay in silent contemplation of the previous day's events and the newly acquired wife who lay sleeping contentedly in his arms. He did not regret for a moment what he had done, neither the marriage nor the Bonding. Her blind faith still concerned him, but he no longer doubted the strength of her affections. The chances of her being shocked and disillusioned by his past or current behavior were still very great—he still had to maintain his role. They would deal with those issues as they arose. At least now he felt reasonably confident that they could be dealt with!  
  
She was stirring in his arms, the long masses of hair in tangles but still soft and sweet smelling as he rubbed his chin against it. She was making soft, mewling noises of contentment as her arms tightened around him and her body snuggled closer. He allowed himself to be newly bewildered at the wash of affection from her that he could feel through their Bond. It was quite a surreal feeling, even now, to think of himself as inspiring such strong and pleasant emotions in anyone.  
  
However, he felt a sudden stab of near panic as she gained complete wakefulness, and it took a moment to realize it was hers and not his... this Bond thing would take some getting used to! Still, it quickly became his as well. What had suddenly upset her so much? Was she regretting everything NOW? Now when there was no turning back? He leaned back and tilted her chin up to look at him. This was not a time for shyness or secrets!  
  
"Rowena, what is it?"  
  
"Severus... I'm sorry... I didn't even think... It completely slipped my mind... Merlin's beard, Severus, I should have thought of it before! I'm so sorry. I'll see Madame Pomfrey at once..."  
  
"You fool girl, what are you raving about?" he asked, but his voice was softer, his fear easing as he thought he understood.  
  
"Contraception, Severus! I've never needed to give it a moment's thought, so... I just didn't think. I know you don't want children, I swear I wasn't trying to force the issue, it just completely slipped my mind..."  
  
He silenced her with a tender kiss. "My rational Ravenclaw has her moments of failure then. I am glad to know it. Your intellectual capabilities were beginning to weigh heavily upon my mind. I like to have my supremacy in that regard unchallenged."  
  
He smirked at her immediate bristling at his teasing, and kissed her again, "I have taken care of it, Rowena. I am sorry I did not discuss it with you before, but it seemed unnecessary at the time."  
  
"Taken care of it? What have you done, Severus?" she asked suspiciously. "How long have you been planning this, anyway?"  
  
"Ever since the fire at the Burrow I have allowed myself to consider this a possibility. I was by no means certain that it would become a reality, but I did plan for the contingencies. That is when I made arrangements for your ring, and had an important conversation with Poppy.  
  
"There is a simple charm that creates male sterility. A similar charm affects women, but for some reason the one for men is easily reversible, while the feminine counterpart is often permanent. I had Poppy teach me the charm weeks ago, when she was treating my back. She is quite discreet.  
  
"I cannot see myself ever desiring to have children. I'm sorry, because I think you would like them, and that motherhood would suit you. But I am not so cruel or shortsighted as to ask you to take such a permanent measure. So I took care of it."  
  
He pulled her close again and shrugged as he continued, "Besides, who knows? Perhaps one day we will find that we want children after all? I would not wish you to get your hopes up to that effect. But still, had someone told me a year ago that I would be happily married to a Lupin, I would have hexed them to oblivion. I think that proves even I am not completely set in my ways, does it not?"  
  
She kissed him tenderly, "Thank you, Severus. I don't need children, I only need you."  
  
She then grinned teasingly at him, "Besides, I'm not a Lupin anymore. I'm a Snape."  
  
He returned the smile with a warm wash of affection and pride. "Indeed you are, Rowena Snape."  
  
She glowed with pleasure and kissed him deeply. "I have always wanted to be that... to be Rowena Snape. I never dared to hope it would actually happen."  
  
"That surprises me a bit, Mrs. Snape," he teased, his deep voice rumbling against her. "I believe you told me once when we had only just become reacquainted that you could be quite determined once you set your mind to something. This seems to prove your point."  
  
"Well, there is that. I'm sure this won't be your last run-in with my stubborn streak," she said laughing.  
  
"That much is certain," he said, dryly.

* * *

Monday morning arrived and their blissful weekend of isolation was over. For Severus it was somewhat of a relief. He quickly learned to control the sending and receiving of emotions through the Bond from his end. The constant awareness of that level of emotional intensity was something with which he would never be completely comfortable. Rowena—sweet Rowena accepted his need to withdraw from her without explanation.  
  
That pure connection was simply too intimate, too overwhelming; it was tolerable; if he was completely honest, it was quite pleasant—when they were alone together. But he buttoned up his emotions as thoroughly as he buttoned his shirt from wrist to throat once it was time to don his more familiar role. He encouraged her to do the same, particularly during her Occlumency lessons with Potter. He did NOT want that interfering prat to know of their marriage!  
  
Breakfast was an interesting event. They arrived at separate times through separate doors, each entering the school corridors through the appropriate public door from their own quarters. He seated himself next to her, as had been his habit all year. Halloween was two weeks away, but already Hagrid had begun to move some of the pumpkins inside. None of this was particularly unusual or entertaining.  
  
No, the thing that caused the fuss was the bloody enchanted candles hanging from the ceiling. Well, the candles themselves drew no actual attention; they were no different on this day than any other. However, if they had not provided such thorough lighting, it might have gone unnoticed.  
  
Rowena, it transpired, was left-handed. He was quite annoyed with himself for not noticing that before. He really was slipping in his powers of observation! But even this, obviously, was not in and of itself remarkable. However, now we come to the point.  
  
When a left-handed woman drinks from a goblet in a thoroughly candle-lit Great Hall, it is almost inevitable that the newly acquired two-carat diamond on her rather small and delicate hand would catch the light and glitter brightly. If said woman happens to be sitting across the table from several other women, it is equally predestined that the sight of this sparkling stone would cause uproar.  
  
This is precisely what happened.  
  
Severus was silently eating his sausages and eggs, irritably contemplating his first class of the day, the Third Years, dunderheads to the last. Rowena was pleasantly chatting with Minerva across the table. She innocently reached for her orange juice and drank.  
  
Minerva's gasp of surprise alerted Hooch. Hooch's low swears drew the attention of Sinistra. Sinistra's squeal of excitement caused Filius Flitwick to stand on his chair to see what the fuss was about. He slightly overbalanced and had to grab onto Hagrid's shoulder to avoid falling into the large serving bowl of porridge. This of course drew Hagrid's notice from the far end of the table. Dylan sat observing in uncharacteristic silence. Albus Dumbledore, the old fool, was grinning like the Cheshire cat, plainly biting his tongue to keep from chortling out loud.  
  
In short order Rowena's hand was being stretched across the table and passed from diner to diner as though it were not quite firmly attached to a very short woman on the other end. Severus studiously ignored the lot of them as long as he possibly could.  
  
Unfortunately, Rowena was quite irrationally and uncharacteristically reduced to blushes and incoherent giggles. She was entirely without the capacity for comprehensible speech.  
  
When Minerva inquired brusquely, "What is the meaning of this?" after examining the ring closely Severus was forced to respond himself.  
  
He raised a brow archly, planted his most disdainful sneer beautifully across his face and assumed the tone of exquisite boredom that he hid behind whenever he was forced to address anything vaguely emotional. "Really, Minerva. I do believe you have seen an engagement ring before?"  
  
Even as carefully as he had sealed himself from her, he still felt the brush of her affection through their Bond. It was merely the most feather- light of touches—he had no doubt that if he had not shielded himself it would have been very strong indeed. Lest she feel the slightest doubt of him even now, he returned the very primal and possessive pride he felt to see her brandishing his ring. She thankfully avoided his eye, but she was smiling radiantly.  
  
Minerva was stunned into momentary silence, while the rest of the table erupted into a loud hum of surprised chatter. When she found her voice, it was to question him with the air of a Professor who had just caught a student cheating at an exam.  
  
"Great heavens, It's not YOUR engagement ring, Severus?" She didn't even bother to keep the incredulity out of her voice.  
  
Albus saved him the need to answer. The Headmaster was smiling broadly, plainly enjoying himself to the fullest. "Well, of course it's Severus's ring, Minerva, dear! Who else's would it be? I hardly believe you've grown that unobservant over the years."  
  
She made a small noise of disbelief, though she was smiling now, looking at Severus and Rowena approvingly. "You mean, who else would have him, don't you Headmaster? Well, it's about time I would say."  
  
"Minerva, be nice," Albus chided. He turned to regard Rowena. Severus was scowling at Minerva, deliberately avoiding the gaze of his Headmaster and friend. "I, for one, am very happy for you both. When you're ready we'll do a lovely wedding and reception right here at Hogwarts if you like. Something grandiose and flashy, I think. I believe I can find out where Professor Lockhart acquired those adorable cherubs a few years back, Severus—you do remember them, don't you? And the singing dwarves were so entertaining!"  
  
This earned Albus the most dangerously dark look from Severus that he was capable of under the circumstances. The old man was having far too much fun with this!  
  
The rest of the table chimed in with their well-wishes and congratulations. Hagrid even got up from his seat and came around to shake their hands, which Severus barely deigned to allow.  
  
Of course all this fuss drew the attention of the students in the Hall. If there was a person in Hogwarts that didn't know by the end of the day that Severus Snape was engaged to Rowena Lupin, it would have to be because they were unconscious or avoiding all other human, ghost, or portrait contact the entire day.  
  
Colin Creevey even made his way to the end of the Gryffindor table so that he could be close to the Head table... he had to have a picture, of course!

* * *

The students could talk of nothing else, as might be surmised. In Rowena's class, the girls were even brave enough to ask to see the ring, which invariably induced various giggles, sighs of longing, envy and appreciation. There was not a wizard-born girl who did not know the meaning and significance of a Fire Diamond, and they quickly spread the word among the muggle-born.  
  
None of them truly understood or at all envied her for her choice of fiancé. In fact, some of the muttering was simple incredulity that those two should be matched at all! Snape was... well, SNAPE, after all.  
  
Rowena, in contrast, was nice and friendly. She maintained order in her classes and didn't hesitate to take points, assign extra homework, or even dish out detentions when necessary. But she did it with a fair and even hand, and was just enough more lenient than McGonagall to have earned the reputation of being the nicest Professor in the school, or at least a close second to Professor Flitwick. Her classes were admittedly a bit dull unless your name happened to be Hermione Granger, but no one could argue the 'nice' issue.  
  
In Snape's classes the excitement over the news manifested itself in excessive whisperings when his back was turned, a definite increase in schoolgirl giggling, and appraising, doubting looks from the rare intelligent student. Obviously some of the latter variety suspected love potions or other duplicity in the event. The logic was something along the lines of this: Rowena was simply too rational and too nice to have consented to have someone like Snape without powerful magical coercion!  
  
The exception to this bunch, of course, was Hermione Granger. That annoying know-it-all had the audacity to smile pleasantly at him when she entered the room, tell him very sincerely that she was "very happy for you both"; and then proceeded to make her potion flawlessly so that he was robbed the pleasure of snarling at her with justification. He felt that in light of the circumstance, it would be beneath even him to do so without reason.  
  
It was fortunate for him that the majority of his students gave him plenty of opportunity for snarling, house point deduction and detentions. He assigned these latter to the purview of Filch. He was not about to let student punishments inconvenience HIM now that he had something more pleasant to do with his free time!

* * *

The first genuine problem out of all of this, of course, was Harry's Occlumency. Harry had known Rowena fancied the greasy git, but he seemed to feel that this new development was a betrayal of sorts. There wasn't anyone in the school he hated more than Snape, though Malfoy was admittedly a close second. He had come to trust Rowena to a degree. Not a LARGE degree, by any means, but more than any other faculty or staff currently in residence at Hogwarts, with the possible exception of Hagrid.  
  
She'd been inside his head. He'd been inside hers. It was an unpleasantly vulnerable sensation to practice Legilimency and Occlumency to this degree with anyone. By this new development, she had shaken his already dubious trust.  
  
Unsurprisingly the lesson did not go well. He arrived with the same bitter, angry attitude that he had presented to her on his first lesson. He was vicious in his Legilimency attempts until her head throbbed from the exertion to keep him out. He had increased greatly in strength, and the vengeful anger that fueled his efforts made every attempt seem like a savage attack. However, his Occlumency was weak in his anger, and he raged at her mentally when she breached his shield.  
  
Her concern for him heightened as she saw the anger, hate, and vengeance inside him. All of the teachers had been voicing worry over the boy. His truest friends remained true—the Weasleys, Hermione and Neville—but they had to actively seek him, as he even avoided them. He was isolating himself in bitterness and grief. No one seemed to be able to reach him.  
  
He was becoming remarkably like another boy she had known long ago, who allowed himself to be consumed with thoughts of vengeance, anger and hate. Merlin's Beard!  
  
She cut the lesson short and returned to her quarters, deep in thought.

* * *

Severus entered her quarters through the private door to find her pacing, agitatedly. The thing that he found most interesting was not that she was doing this, but that she was not currently sending any particular emotion. Apparently his rational Ravenclaw had regained some of that much touted reason since the scene at breakfast. Dwelling on puzzles of logic was an effective way to dampen emotions, though he knew she did not do this on purpose for that effect.  
  
When she saw him, she stopped her pacing and behaved as every new bride should do. She smiled warmly, quickly found her way to his arms and kissed him hello quite thoroughly. However, her mind was not to be distracted from the problem at hand; not even by the lure of marital delights they had only just begun to explore together.  
  
She sat down on the couch, obviously leaving room for him to join her there if he chose, and began at once without preamble. He was not going to like what she had to say.  
  
"Severus, we are losing Harry Potter. I think you are the only one who can help him."  
  
He made a noise of derision and scowled darkly, "Losing the idiot boy to what? And why on earth should I care or want to help him?"  
  
"Vengeance. Grief. Anger. Take your pick. He is isolating himself from everyone he cares about or who cares about him, and dwelling on the darkest thoughts imaginable. He's so bitter!"  
  
"You have not answered the second part of my question. What does it matter to me? Why do you imagine I would wish to help him, even if I am capable of it?" He did not sit next to her on the couch, and did not open himself to their Bond. He instead sprawled rather lazily on one of the chairs and cloaked himself in concealing boredom. She was obviously touching a nerve!  
  
She made a noise of frustration, "Severus—you know better than anybody else where that leads! He won't listen to any of his friends. They've all worked to keep secrets from him to keep him 'safe'—much like Remus did to me when we were kids. He's furious with them. Nothing they say or do will reach him.  
  
"YOU could reach him! You've been there; you know what he's going through. He hates you. You hate him. All the more reason why he would believe what you say—he would know you weren't doing it to be nice or friendly or anything."  
  
He scowled silently at the chessboard on the coffee table and said nothing.  
  
"Severus... he doesn't have the resources you had to pull him out of this! He has friends now, since he's come to Hogwarts, but he has no solid foundation to fall back on. He doesn't remember his real parents, and spent the most important part of his childhood totally unwanted and unloved. He was HATED in fact. No effort was made to give him any sort of moral or ethical foundation. You had your mother—he had nothing!"  
  
"Do NOT bring my mother into this, Lup..." he caught himself with a small smirk and corrected, "Snape. He also was not beaten to the brink of death on a regular basis. That hardly seems to me to qualify as a 'solid' foundation.  
  
"I doubt very much that he would listen to what I had to say. I also doubt very much that I would be willing to tell him anything that might be of use to him. He already knows too much about me for my comfort."  
  
She knew she had come to an impasse, at least for the moment. Harry had indeed breached Severus's privacy on more than one occasion to her certain knowledge. That was not something Severus was likely to forgive or overlook.  
  
Besides, discussing Harry Potter was not tops on her list of things she would like to do with her new husband. "Will you at least think about it? I don't know if you could make a difference, but right now I do know that no one else can."  
  
"I will consider the problem," he said, noncommittally.  
  
"Thank you, Severus."  
  
She smiled radiantly at him and then went to her shelf and retrieved some rolls of parchment. When she returned to him, she boldly sat on his lap, presented him with the parchment and kissed him soundly.  
  
He raised a brow inquiringly, but accepted her body, her kisses and the parchment without argument. She stopped kissing him long enough to unroll the papers and explain.  
  
"Think of it as a wedding present," she said. "Hermione told me that Fred and George have invisibility cloaks. I know Harry has one, too. It seems to me that those three enjoy getting into trouble far too much to have them wandering around in those cloaks with impunity. These are wards for your lab and office; well, anywhere you want to use them, actually."  
  
Grinning brightly, she explained, "This one will cause the exterior of the cloaks to glow very softly, if they enter the warded area. The wearer won't know they're glowing, but you'll be able to see the outline. I thought you might like the opportunity to catch them red-handed. It's fairly short-acting I'm afraid, so you need to reset it whenever you're working in your lab."  
  
He gave a dark chuckle as he looked at it approvingly, "Your Slytherin nature is showing itself again, Rowena."  
  
She blushed at the praise—for such a statement from him was indeed high praise—and showed him the other ward, "This one is simply a minor alarm charm, modified to be silent and personal, so that only you will know when the alarm's been tripped. This has to be renewed every day as well, but you'll know whenever an unauthorized person enters the warded space."  
  
"Impressive. I knew there was a reason I married you," he teased, dryly.  
  
Pouting, she pretended to be affronted. It was a very inadequate pretense, as he opened himself to their Bond, and she could feel his pride and affection washing over her. "And here I thought you married me for my physical appeal," she teased in return.  
  
He nuzzled her neck and began nipping at her ear and the tender flesh behind it. "That was merely a secondary consideration, I assure you," he murmured against her skin, finding his way back to her lips.  
  
She heard his sudden intake of breath at the same moment that she felt a painful surge of heat at her waist where his arm rested against her. She realized his mark burned when the Dark Lord called him, but she didn't realize the heat was that intense!  
  
She stood quickly off of his lap and looked at him worriedly, her heart pounding now in fear for him. He grabbed her shoulders and gazed intently at her.  
  
"Rowena, you must close yourself to me while I'm gone. The Dark Lord must not sense our Bond. It's not enough for me to close myself; you must do so as well. It can be dampened by willful control, much like Occlumency," he said urgently.  
  
Nodding, she looked at him fearfully, "Why is He calling you now? He knows you have class in the morning... He doesn't usually call you in the middle of the week, does He?"  
  
He sneered unpleasantly, "I am His slave, Rowena, His puppet, as are all His Death Eaters. He calls me when the whim strikes Him. I suspect that one of our students has passed along news of our 'engagement', and now I am called to explain."  
  
She felt frustration and anger well up inside of her, but it wasn't hers. It came from him, through their Bond.  
  
"Rowena, I hate this. I truly hate that what we have must be hidden as though it were shameful, that I must go now and feign indifference to you. It was selfish of me to marry you, to Bond with you under these circumstances. My bondage to the Dark Lord sullies what you have given to me. I should have waited..."  
  
She silenced him with a kiss, striving to dampen her fear for him. "No, Severus. I'm glad you didn't wait. Please don't regret this... regret us... "  
  
He shook his head. "No, Rowena, I have no regrets in that regard. My selfishness will not allow me to be sorry you are mine. I merely deplore the circumstances surrounding us. Seal yourself now, wife. I will return."  
  
He kissed her once more and allowed her to feel the strength of his affection for her for a final instant. He then immediately and completely closed himself to their Bond and quickly left the room.

* * *

He never knew where the summons would bring him. Voldemort trusted no one, and so could not use powerful concealing magic such as the Fidelius Charm. That required pure trust of the Secret Keeper to be effective. Instead the Dark Lord maintained many different hiding places. He lived in cloaked luxury in each of them, but chose where to be at any given moment completely at random.  
  
The magic of the Dark Mark drew the summoned follower so that it was possible to Apparate to Voldemort's location—or as near as Antiapparition wards would allow—without the Death Eater truly knowing their own geographical location upon arrival. In this way the Dark Lord made it difficult for his followers to accidentally or intentionally betray his location.  
  
Severus pulled his hood up more securely upon his arrival, and adjusted his mask for more comfortable visibility. He hated the mask, yet was grateful to hide behind it, adding another layer of concealment as he walked the dangerous line. This location was merely a rather small house on an isolated moor. Dementors lurked in shadows nearby; he could feel their presence even if he could not see them.  
  
Cautiously steeling himself for what was to come, he approached the house. He felt with his tongue the small disk he had tucked against his cheek to ensure its presence. It was a device of his creation that gradually seeped a Veritaserum antidote. There was no way of knowing what had the Dark Lord in such a rage this time. The burning of his Mark had not ceased or decreased in intensity since it called him nearly half an hour ago, which was certain proof that He was in a towering rage indeed.  
  
He entered the building with his innate feline stealth and grace, to find several other cloaked and masked figures already there. A few of them displayed the hunched stance and heavy breathing that spoke of the Cruciatus Curse. None gave any sign that betrayed either their identity or that suggested they recognized the new arrival.  
  
The Dark Lord was raving from the chair near the fire. His rage was such that the room reeked heavily of fear, and each Death Eater cowered visibly when the glaring red eyes regarded them in turn. The cold, high-pitched voice grated against the nerves like a sharp object scraped against a chalkboard. "I want Azkaban breached! I am tired of waiting! Last year only 10 of my faithful were trapped in there, and we retrieved them all easily! What is the delay?"  
  
Severus allowed the words to wash over him as he stored the information, preparing for the questions to come. Well, at least His primary rage was not over news of his 'engagement' to Rowena. Still, he was sure it would come up eventually. This was going to be a lengthy interview.

* * *

Rowena took stacks of papers to grade and student essays to examine with her as she went to the room in the Hospital wing where Severus would return. She forced herself not to consciously think of him or be afraid for him—it would make it that much harder to seal herself from their Bond. The technical work, anything that required rational thought, would help keep her mind occupied.  
  
It was late in the evening when she retreated to the ward, well past student curfew, and so she encountered no one. She left the door open so she could quickly summon Poppy if it became necessary, and then tried to immerse herself in grading papers.  
  
A different distraction to that effect arrived near midnight, in the form of one Harry Potter. He came into the room, pulling off his invisibility cloak when he saw her there.  
  
He was pale and sweaty, the scar on his forehead standing out livid red against his ashen skin. He was trembling, and sat heavily in the other empty chair in the room. He looked at the empty bed, and then at Rowena and asked hurriedly, almost breathlessly, "He's not back yet?"  
  
Rowena didn't know quite how to respond to this—how in Merlin's name had he known Severus had gone?  
  
"Harry, what are you doing here? You need to return to your dorm at once!" This was not the time to play understanding teacher, or even compassionate friend. She realized THIS was the sort of thing that Severus meant when he complained that Potter felt rules didn't apply to him. This was going completely around the bend!  
  
"I was hanging out in the halls tonight and I saw him leave. He always rubs his arm when he thinks no one is looking; when it's burning him. So I guessed where he was going." He looked directly at Rowena, with an air of concern that was incongruous to the recklessness of his actions.  
  
"I went into Voldemort's head a little while ago. He was... um... questioning Snape," he said simply.  
  
Rowena looked at him in open-mouthed shock. She forced herself not to dwell on the sort of methods that would be used to 'question' Severus... she HAD to keep herself sealed from their bond! Worrying about what was happening to him would not help her in that regard.  
  
"Great bloody dragon bollocks! What in the hell did you do that for? What have we been trying so hard to do with your Occlumency? To keep you OUT of His head! And Him out of yours!" She was so upset, she was nearly shrieking in rage.  
  
"Listen, He didn't know I was there, okay? I can tell. I've been thinking about it once I sort of figured out how he was getting in my head last year. When I saw Snape leaving I thought I might try it out—it seemed like a good time, when Voldemort was distracted with other thoughts." He trailed off, but he was plainly distressed by what he had seen.  
  
Rowena made a valiant effort to be rational and placating, while still impressing on him the foolishness of what he had done. Sweet heavens above—what if Harry's foray into the Dark Lord's mind caused him to discover the truth of Severus's loyalties? She had to get him to stop messing around in things way over his head!  
  
"Harry, it's not safe and you know it. He could detect you at any moment, and then try to control you. He could find out the things you know about Albus and the Order, school security, Severus, all sorts of useful information. Things that could affect the lives and safety of many other people! You could have gotten Severus killed at that moment!! If you're inside his mind, he can get inside yours. You must never, ever do that again! And whatever you DID see in there tonight, you need to tell Albus at once."  
  
He stood up and paced the room, his agitation for the moment beyond words.  
  
"I won't promise not to do it again... you don't know what I saw, what I found out. And I'm not telling Dumbledore anything without talking to Snape first! I'm tired of Dumbledore always trying to protect me and shut me out of things. He plays around with other people's lives. He locked Sirius away for the last year of his life... he keeps secrets and moves us all around like pawns—even Snape! It's like Dumbledore and Voldemort are playing this huge chess game, and we all get to be the pieces used in the middle. I'm done—I've had enough! I'm not playing by Dumbledore's rules anymore!  
  
"Snape's at least honest about being a damn sneaky bastard! He's the only one that really knows both sides... Besides, what I saw relates to him, more than anybody else. I'll only tell him—he can decide what to do with it after that."  
  
He flopped himself back in the chair and buried his face in his hands. Rowena was shocked to silence. She had no idea that Harry's anger at Albus had gone this far. However, she was not surprised that he had sought out Severus—she continued to feel very strongly that there was a great deal of similarity between the two. At least one of them was beginning to recognize it!  
  
"Harry, I think you should go to bed. You can talk to Severus in the morning. I'm sure he'll be back soon, but he'll be tired, he might need medical help... I don't know if he'll be willing to talk to you for a while. He'll be furious when he finds out what you've done," she said, trying to reason with him.  
  
"Why don't you just tell me what is so urgent, and I'll tell him for you? I think that would be safer for everyone concerned, don't you?"  
  
"NO WAY!" Harry said, emphatically. "He'll be furious enough as it is—I'm not telling anyone else anything. It won't wait. I'm staying right here."  
  
He flopped mulishly back into the chair in the corner, crossed his arms over his chest, and fell silent. He occasionally rubbed absently at the scar on his forehead, as Rowena had seen Severus do to the mark on his arm. She finally succeeded in making him wait in the main room instead of this one. Severus's temper towards the boy would not at all improve if Harry was allowed to see him injured and vulnerable!  
  
It was the best she could do. She resigned herself to severe unpleasantness when Severus returned, and attempted again to absorb herself in grading papers.

* * *

She didn't have long to wait. He was curled protectively against himself when he appeared with the telltale 'whoosh' that announced his arrival. Rowena went to him at once and immediately ascertained that he had suffered very extensive use of the Cruciatus, but could find no other injuries. That was enough—it was the worst damage she had yet seen him suffer. How he had managed to articulate the command word for his Portkey was a mystery. It took multiple uses of her "Solicify" charm before he could move at all, and a pain relieving draught from the store-cupboard before he could sit up.  
  
Once sitting, he seemed to rapidly improve. She brought him hot tea and sat silently next to him, her arms tightly wrapped around him. Now that the need for action and the worry of waiting was over, the emotion washed over her as it always did. She fought back tears as she buried her face against his chest, the scent of fear and exertion from his ordeal mingled heavily with the usual comforting fragrance that was Severus. He allowed the embrace and wrapped one arm around her as he sipped the tea.  
  
At last he spoke, his voice plainly strained, "Rowena, I need to speak with Albus immediately. Return to our quarters, I will be there when I can."  
  
With great trepidation, she said, "Severus... before you talk to Albus... Harry came in a while ago. He says he has to talk to you, he says it's urgent. He won't tell me what it is, and he says he won't talk to Albus. He's waiting outside."  
  
"Bloody raving Gryffindor fool!" Severus hissed angrily, "What does he want? I sincerely hope you took a healthy measure of house points for being out of his dorm past curfew? A month's worth of detention with Filch perhaps? Imbecilic boy!"  
  
She attempted a small smile and shook her head, "No, I thought I would save you the pleasure of his punishment. I hoped it would be satisfying enough to prevent you killing him outright. He's done something incredibly stupid..."  
  
"So what is new? Nearly everything he does outside of direct supervision is reckless and stupid. Very well, send him in—I'm in no condition right now to kill him properly—when it comes to that I intend to enjoy it to the fullest. He's as safe as he will ever be with me."

* * *

The boy entered the room uncertainly, glancing around when he saw the empty bed. Severus had gone to the window seat and was leaning lazily against the frame. He'd be damned if he'd let Potter see in him any display of weakness!  
  
He glowered darkly at him. Harry met the glare fully, but there was an air of concern about him that irritated Severus further.  
  
"Professor... are you alright?" he asked, almost timidly.  
  
"Potter, get to the point," Severus sneered dangerously. "Why are you here? Why do you imagine I would wish to hear what you had to say?"  
  
Harry frowned back and shrugged. "You're the only one I can talk to. Voldemort goes out of his way to hurt the people he knows I care about."  
  
Snape snorted in understanding, "Ah, but you can speak with me because of our mutual animosity, is that it? Very well. At least this shows you do occasionally make the effort to engage your miniscule intellect in your actions."  
  
"Yeah, and if Voldemort decides that I am too close to you and kills you for it, it won't matter to me," Harry retorted angrily.  
  
Snape merely raised a brow and inclined his head in an ironic bow, "Again the feeling is mutual, Potter."  
  
Harry started pacing in his distress, and spoke quickly, "I was in his head when he was... questioning you... what he was thinking about had very little to do with the questions he was asking..."  
  
Severus heard him out without interruption. When he had finished, he grabbed the boy firmly by the arm and bodily dragged him to Albus's office.  
  
"You will tell the Headmaster precisely what you have told me," he ordered.  
  
It was a mark of the severity of the situation, the gravity of the information, and the turmoil that arose from it that neither the Headmaster nor the Potions Master addressed the issue of house points or detention. Instead they dismissed him as soon as his information was given and remained up half the night in earnest and worried conversation.

* * *

A/N: Real life work and end of school year kid stuff is interfering with my writing time a bit, sorry. As you know, I like to update a minimum of once a week, preferably twice a week. Hopefully I will be able to pick up the pace a bit again soon.  
  
There is plenty more to come, so please check back often. Some things you will see in future chapters include whatever "Luke" and Dylan are up to, more Death Eater attacks—there will be some deaths, sorry, but I promise it will only be 'red shirts' (does anyone besides me know the Star Trek reference?); more Malfoy social interaction, some severe changes at the Ministry that will affect the wizarding world, etc. Katrina is not forgotten in the least, and Severus and Rowena will not be forced to hide their marriage forever. I think it might be funny if Albus succeeded in forcing a "grandiose" wedding, don't you? I doubt it will happen, but you never know! 


	25. Chapter 25 : Haven in the Storm

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

I'm back!! Author page updated, story moving again, life has settled. This chapter contains mild lemon, slightly censored to meet FFN guidelines. Please email me with "lemon" in the subject line if you would like to be sent a link to the site where I post the uncensored version.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 25: Haven in the Storm

* * *

The heavy oaken door had barely closed behind Harry Potter when Severus began pacing agitatedly in Albus's office, his black robes snapping around his legs. Albus watched him over steepled fingers, the blue eyes intent and grave.

**CRASH!**

A small ink bottle from the Headmaster's desk was snatched up into long, pale fingers and hurled across the room to shatter spectacularly into the floo. The yellow flames sputtered and sizzled as the ink quickly bubbled and then evaporated.

"What have I done?"

The anguished tones sounded nothing like the normal baritone silk of the stoic man. Instead it sounded as though the words were ripped from his chest, rough and haggard. He stood in the center of the room, staring at the dancing flames with his shoulders hunched, the picture of pain and despair.

"Severus, you have done nothing wrong. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty time and time again..."

"Albus, SHUT UP!!!" he raged, his face contorted almost beyond recognition by violent emotions he rarely allowed anyone to see. The rapid pacing began once again, as though he could flee from the demons that pursued him. "How can you say that?!? The other things... the muggle parents of the mudblood students, we can arrange to protect."

(The Headmaster diplomatically chose not to interrupt him or correct his choice of words here, though normally he did not allow his teachers to use the term 'mudblood'.)

"The problem with Gringotts, we can work on diplomatically—I don't really think the Goblins will throw in with the Dark Lord if given viable options. Cornelius Fudge... can be... _taken care of_..." he said evasively.

"But the Azkaban wards—only Rowena has the key to what he wants there! We've known for months that he's been plotting ways to get at her research, yet now that we've given him the 'research', he's not satisfied—he wants the means to break it!"

A delicate glass-topped table that held one of several Wizard's chess sets in the room suddenly flew across the room in a loud clatter of broken glass and twisted metal as Severus kicked it savagely with a heavily booted foot. It hit a coat stand, sending shards of glass and chessmen flying everywhere, the indignant screams of the little pieces adding their voices to the satisfying sounds of destruction. A delicate, spindly desk-top ornament followed soon after as he picked it up and hurled it with a snarl of rage.

Through it all, Albus regarded him with benign patience over his spectacles. Eventually, there was a pause in the sounds of destruction.

"Severus," Albus said calmly, "I suggest you attempt to control yourself and approach this rationally."

Severus had stopped pacing dead in his tracks at the visible evidence of his loss of control, his chest still heaving from the exertion of his outward display of his inner turmoil. Never, since he was a very young boy, had he lost control of his temper so completely! Not even Potter's antics—either Potter—had ever made him lose control to this extent! Blatant, deliberate destruction of the Headmaster's personal effects!

The effect of this evidence and Albus's calm tone was almost instantaneous, and he did indeed _FORCE_ his emotions back under his command. Slowly and deliberately he withdrew his wand, circling the room with uttered "_Reparo_"s. In short order he had repaired the damage, righted the table and replaced the chess pieces while Albus watched in silence.

"Forgive me, Headmaster. I forgot myself," he said coolly when all was restored to order.

"No, Severus," Albus said kindly, "You did not forget yourself—you have only just begun to FIND yourself. There is nothing to forgive, and I share your concern."

Fluidly, Severus sat down in the chair opposite Albus's desk and addressed him as he might have done if they were discussing an unruly student needing boundaries.

"I wish you to get Rowena out of this school at once. I want you to destroy the marriage certificate. I will release her. The Dark Lord saw her image in my mind, that much is clear. Potter's description could have come from no other source. He has heard from parents of some of our students that Potter has developed a rapport with her. The Dark Lord will now view her as a four-fold prize: A hostage to ransom for your memory of the Prophecy, a tool by which to hurt Potter, a means to break the new Azkaban wards, and a means to put my loyalty to the ultimate test.

"It was my weakness that allowed him to see her. Somehow he saw her in my thoughts; I was not shielded well enough. It is my fault she is now in danger. I will not bear that responsibility. She will be removed from these grounds at once."

The cool impassivity that he nearly always wore, and which merely deepened when he was particularly attempting to conceal stronger emotions, had become so complete that he might have been discussing the least inconvenient way to dispose of Hogwarts trash. Nothing in tone or bearing betrayed any drop of emotion.

Yet Albus inhaled sharply as though he himself was suffering great pain and his eyes became brighter than normal as he regarded the younger man.

"Severus, you do not mean that. Do not push her away. She married you with her eyes open. Nothing Voldemort could do to her would cause her as much pain and anguish as what you are suggesting. I will not send her away from the school—no where else is safer, and we need her shield work now more than ever if Voldemort truly intends to begin exterminating the Muggle parents of our students.

"It's impossible to destroy the marriage certificate, as well you know. She must sign a new certificate agreeing to annulment or divorce to end the marriage, and even then you will be Bonded to each other for life; again as you know, as YOU requested."

He watched the younger man stiffen slightly at those words, and the obsidian eyes met his with a flash of anger.

"How dare you permit that!" he hissed, and the impassivity vanished in an instant, giving way to his other familiar and comfortable defense--ANGER. "What possessed you to agree to perform the Bonding in light of the situation? How could you allow her to be placed in such danger, be tied so completely to **_ME_**??"

"Because she loves you, you love her, and even in the midst of danger there is always room for hope, time for brief moments of happiness. Every man deserves his haven from the storm—Rowena is yours. Every woman deserves to feel the love of her life's grand passion—you are hers. What you did, Severus, was an exquisite gift to both of you. Not a mistake, not a punishment, not a dangerous risk—it was a GIFT! Do not throw it away at the first sign of hardship."

Albus met the angry gaze with calm equanimity.

"You do know what Rowena believes is the only true Unforgivable by now, don't you Severus? Don't 'pull a Remus' as she says. Trust her strength and capabilities, and your love together. We will find a way to keep her safe. I will help you; you are not alone in this. Don't push her away."

It was impossible to remain angry with the one person who had seen him through every trauma of his life since arriving at Hogwarts. If he had ever viewed anyone as a 'Father Figure'—a term which he despised—it was Albus Dumbledore. For a brief moment, all pretense, all the familiar defense mechanisms melted away, and he was merely a vulnerable young man in need of comfort.

"Albus," he said brokenly, "I could not bear for something to happen to her because of me... because of her love for me... If something happens to her..."

The thought trailed off unfinished. He slumped forward, elbows on his knees; hands clasped before him and stared at the floor. His distress, for the moment was a palpable thing. He looked up at last when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I can't promise you she will be safe, Severus. No one can. I can promise to do everything I can to help protect her—to protect everyone under our charge. That is all anyone can do.

"Now. Why don't you return to your young bride and let yourself find some peace. We will have to call the Order together tomorrow evening. We have much work ahead of us. Rest while you can, Severus."

Albus grasped his hand warmly and clapped him on the shoulder as he stood.

"You are correct, Albus, of course," he said simply, and then left abruptly.

The Headmaster was not satisfied by the brief reassurance. Severus wouldn't meet his eyes at the end, and he wasn't at all sure that the young man was prepared to place that much faith in anyone or anything; not even the love of a lifetime. He had much to do and could not spare time to fret over Severus's personal decisions, but he feared that Severus was not convinced.

He woke Fawkes gently and began writing several urgent missives. Severus and Rowena would have to find their path together. He could no longer spare the time to 'meddle'.

* * *

Severus raged at the world as he made his way silently through the darkened corridors towards their quarters. "Their" quarters!! How had he allowed himself to be drawn into such an entanglement? Wasn't this precisely what he derided about 'love'? Why he would never willingly verbalize the words or admit to feeling such an attachment?

Of course the pleasant moments had been pleasant. That was a gross understatement! There were times since she had returned to his life that he actually had experienced pleasant enough sensations as to suspect that they might be strong enough to enable him to cast a Patronus at last. And not merely sensations of the flesh though those were undoubtedly wonderful, but a genuine lightness of spirit that he could not ever remember feeling in his life, even when his mother was alive.

None of that changed the material point! He was now suffering under fear and anguish the likes of which he had not experienced since he watched his father beat his mother to death. Was this the trade-off for "love"? One had to exchange brief moments of peace and pleasantness for soul-wrenching despair?

He was not at all certain that the exchange was worth it!

This was as far as he managed to get in his silent, brooding ruminations before he reached 'their' door. For a moment he almost turned and left, to return to his own quarters, chill, dark and isolated in the dungeons. But even now, in his feelings of wretchedness, he wanted to be with her. He NEEDED to be with her.

And that, perhaps, was the most frightening revelation of all.

The door opened silently, to reveal his wife curled up asleep on the sofa, plainly waiting for him. The warm wash of emotion that filled him then made him think that perhaps it WAS all worth it, after all.

"Carpe Diem", he muttered to himself under his breath. Seize the day. Was that not what Albus always tried to tell him?  
  
Silent and graceful as a stalking panther, he moved to where she slept, her honey-brown hair fanned out beneath her like a cascade of precious silk. His body still ached from the aftermath of his 'questioning' tonight, and sleep beckoned. Neither concern held weight in the face of her soft fragrance and warm body in his arms as he lifted her easily.

"Severus?" she murmured sleepily against his neck, as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Who else would you expect to be carrying you off to your bed, wife?" he asked dryly.

"What happened? What did Harry have to say? You were so upset!" she said with concern as he laid her on the bed. Her eyes tried to scan his face in the dim light of the fire, but with little success. They glittered in the flickering light, but he revealed no emotion now, as was usual for him.

Silently he cursed himself again for his loss of control. The Bonding had apparently weakened his Occlumency in some way; or else he had not realized it would be so difficult to shield himself completely from her once Bonded. Either way, he was irritated with himself for projecting his emotions to her so clearly.

"Rowena, Albus will be holding a meeting tomorrow. I will tell you all you need to know then. For now... I would like to NOT think about it," he said wearily, laying beside her and pulling her into his arms. He had to admit that she did indeed feel like a 'haven in the storm' as Albus had said.

Sweet heavens above that had created her; she did not argue or question his weary appeal. Instead she gently twined her body with his, arms and legs tangled together so that he felt as though she was trying to meld with him. Shockingly she reached for her wand and uttered the words that instantly disrobed them both so that they were together, skin to skin, and he understood the term "bliss".

It also made him once again realize and appreciate what he would lose if he lost her, which made him fearful. Fear, for Severus, translated itself to anger, so that he lay for a long time holding her almost crushingly tight against him with a plethora of the most powerful emotions he had ever known warring within him for supremacy.

She, too, did not relax to sleep. He was certain he had closed himself from her enough now, that she should not be reading him through their bond, yet she seemed to know that he was not able to sleep. Gentle hands kneaded his shoulders and back as she lay warm and yielding against him. His body responded to her nearness in desire, even as the violent emotions swirled in a vortex inside him.

Thoughts of sleep, of aches and pains and fatigue were gone as the desire filled him, setting him afire, even with the edge of anger causing him to hover near to violence. Hungrily, almost savagely he sought and found her lips. Once before he had kissed her with the bite of savagery, and instead of recoiling away from him, she had met him with equal passion of her own.

Thus she did again! He found her honeyed lips and crushed them beneath his own, bruising, feeling as though if he could devour her completely within himself, he could somehow end this raging fear inside him and keep her safe.

The passion of his kiss excited her, even as she felt his edge of fear and desperation. These were hard and dangerous times, and he had the hardest job of all. That dark edge of danger that was as much a part of him as his billowing black robes or deep black eyes excited her, and she embraced it. So far, when he had made love to her, he had been gentle, rigidly controlled, deliberate. Delicious of course, and she loved him all the more for his tender caution as they learned to pleasure each other together.

But this... the wild, biting kisses that he left down her neck and shoulder caused her to cry out in abandon, writhing against him as her body responded primitively. He had never before allowed himself to be free of his iron control when they came together, and this change excited her further.

His groan of desire was nearly a feral growl as she dug her nails into his back in passion. She felt his need to take, to own, to conquer, and she submitted to that need willingly. His mouth found the hard pebbled surface of her nipple, and he sucked it in savagely, biting and nipping, delighting in her moans and cries.

Nothing, from either of them, was gentle or teasing. And neither of them wanted it to be so!

"Severus..." she cried his name as he left yet another bite mark on her flesh, a small red mark that in the morning would be a bruise on her breast, a love bite in evidence of his ardor. "Please!" she begged, and for an instant the still rational portion of his brain thought she was asking him to stop, that she might be protesting against the harsh attentions.

When he tried to pull away from her, however, she clutched painfully at his hair and back, parting her legs deliciously so that in a swift, savage instant they were one. It was her turn then, to leave the purple bruise on his neck, the bite of passion as he filled her.

He fitted her perfectly. When they were apart, she felt her emptiness... his body was created to fill hers, to fit with her like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly interlocking. Her passion was increased to know that she... mousy, frigid, plain Rowena... could bring him to this state of out of control ardor!

They writhed and thrust together in hedonistic pleasure. It was too primitive, too desperate to last long, and soon they shattered into bliss together.

The savage near-violence of their union had been cathartic... a full day and more worth of fear and anxiety, doubts and anger, washed away together in their union.

Severus collapsed into her arms, burying his face into the hollow of her neck, reveling in the scent and feel of her. If Severus Snape had been of the sort to be inclined for grand emotional displays or flowery words, he might have been almost moved to tears or at least poetry at the moment. Once again she had shown him loudly in action and deed her utter and complete acceptance of him, even the Darkness within him.

However, he was not that sort, nor would she have wanted him to be so!

Instead he rolled carefully off of her and pulled her tightly, possessively into his arms. Somehow, he would keep her safe. Somehow, he would keep her...HIS He would never be able to summon the strength and unselfishness to let her go.

For the first time since they faced the school together after their secret marriage he felt at peace with the decision—had it only been Friday that they were married? Had it been only early this morning, (well, yesterday morning now that it was past midnight) since the fuss over her ring in the Great Hall? For the moment at least, he was able to believe that everything would 'work out' as Albus was fond of saying.

"Rowena?" he said gently.

"Hmmm?" she murmured sleepily against his chest.

He found himself utterly unable to say what he wished he could say... what she deserved to hear from him...

"Sleep well, my wife," he said instead.

"I love you, too, my husband," she said, grinning against his shoulder.

He snorted, but also squeezed her gently. "Enough cheek! Go to sleep."

She snuggled closer to him, if such a thing were possible, and did just that.

* * *

A/N: I want to apologize for my long absence, and assure my fans that I am once again 'on a roll'. Summer was busy with kids and it was hard to get back into the routine. Everyone send a huge hug to my beta Elaine, because without her gentle nudges, I might have procrastinated even longer! The next chapter is already nearly ready, next day or two, and others will come in quick succession. Thank you for your patience and encouragement, all of you!  



	26. Chapter 26: Order Business

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

This entire chapter is an Order Meeting. Sorry for those of you wanting more lemons!

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 26: Order Business

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The Order meeting was held after student curfew. A recording glass—much like a mirror or a Pensieve—was placed on the table. Order members unable to be present would come to Albus's office to view the recording and then when all had seen who needed to see, it would be erased. Many of their Aurors were out on assignment for the Order already.

Rowena again would have chosen NOT to be privy to this meeting, but Albus requested that she attend, and she did so. Her timid nature did not preclude curiosity, and she was glad to be included. She paced the meeting room—a large room she did not know existed that was just behind Albus's main office—while she waited for the others to arrive.

First to arrive after herself was Remus. To his surprise, and hers, she greeted him with a warm smile and even hugged him. He looked tired and wan. Sadly she realized that his condition made him almost ALWAYS look that way as the moon waxed and waned. It was worse now, though, and surely that was due to his concern over Tonks. She stroked his cheek as she looked at him concernedly.

"How are you, Remus?" she asked sincerely.

He had been mutely surprised by her reception of him. Unlike himself, she looked radiant and her smile was infectious. He grinned back at her and then grabbed her hand as the light caused a glitter of... reflection? He looked down at the ring on her finger and back into her beaming face, and his heart lurched. He pulled her into another bone-crushing hug and managed to choke out his congratulations through a throat constricted with emotion.

"I'm happy for you, 'Wena. I know this is what you've always wanted."

The door closed behind them again as another person... Severus... entered the room. Remus released his death-grip on his sister, who was still smiling and now blushing adorably. He turned to the new arrival and held out his hand very formally.

"Severus... I see that congratulations are in order," he said somewhat hesitatingly.

"Whatever are you talking about, Lupin?" Severus asked challengingly, his brow raised as he looked coolly at the proffered hand.

Remus frowned slightly, searching his face... was he actually _joking_ with him?

"I'm talking about the stone on my sister's finger. I know her well enough to know that there is no possible way it could belong to any other man than you. Frankly, I've never understood at all what she sees in you..."

"Remus!" Rowena exclaimed in irritation.

But Severus actually smirked and took Remus's offered hand at last, though he shook it very briefly. "There, at least, is something upon which we will both agree. However, it transpires that I am only human after all..."

Remus laughed suddenly, "THAT must have been a hard realization for you, Severus! What man could resist the sincere affection of an attractive woman, is that it?"

"So it would seem." Severus said with a hint of humor in his tone.

"If you boys would stop posturing and quit talking about me like I'm not here, I would greatly appreciate it!" Rowena said irritably, though she was still smiling softly.

Remus grinned down at her, looking more relaxed than he had when he arrived. At least there was SOME good news to be had today!

"One more brotherly duty, 'Wena, then I'll sit down and behave," he said teasingly. She gave him a huff and rolled her eyes in irritation, before sitting at the table and studiously attempting to ignore them both. Remus turned to Severus who was regarding him with a brow raised expectantly.

"This is the part where I tell you that as long as she's happy, you'll get no complaints from me. If you hurt her, I will be forced to hunt you down and kill you. I believe that's my expected line," he said, still smiling, but there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes as he met the unperturbed gaze of the darker man.

"I would expect nothing less, Lupin," he said sardonically. "Are we done with the expected rituals now?"

"Yes, I believe that's everything," Remus said cheerfully as he made his way over to the table where Rowena was already sitting. Rowena scoffed in playful exasperation.

"Are the two of you quite finished throwing testosterone around the room?"

A familiar "clunk-step-clunk-step" sounded just outside the room, and Severus took the seat on the other side of Rowena with alacrity, somehow managing NOT to look like an errant school-boy afraid of being caught at mischief by the approaching Professor.

Remus chuckled again at her blatant annoyance and nodded. "Yup, quite."

Alastor Moody entered the room at that moment and raked the three of them with his electric blue eye, suspiciously. He then sent it swiveling about the room, apparently searching for traps and the like. He was followed directly by numerous others, so that the room was soon filled to standing-room-only by Order Members, each of whom received the same visual inspection by the Magical Eye. Molly Weasley's arrival was punctuated by her providing everyone with tea and biscuits out of her magical bag.

Professor Dumbledore swept into the room, followed, surprisingly by Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Rowena could almost HEAR Severus's teeth grind next to her.

"Harry, Ron and Miss Granger will join us for a few minutes as we start the meeting," he said without preamble. He transfigured the chair that had been left for him from the hard, straight-backed wooden cane chair into a plush, over-stuffed armchair in an alarming shade of violet covered in flowers. He sat serenely and addressed Harry.

"Harry, please share with the Order your report. You will need to share the source of your information so that we all understand its validity."

The skinny, messy-haired boy flushed and swallowed visibly, and Rowena felt a pang for him as he glanced nervously at all the faces looking at him so expectantly. Hermione paled and looked at him fearfully—clearly he had not shared this information with her yet, either!

The bright emerald green eyes met Severus's, and whether from acute dislike, or acute empathy, he seemed to draw strength from the glance. He coughed weakly, and then began to speak. His voice was hoarse and soft at first, but gained strength as he gained confidence. No one interrupted him, though several of the Aurors could be seen exchanging glances of thinly veiled disbelief, and others appeared to be taking notes.

"I have sort of a connection-thing with Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore says it's because of my scar. Last year I saw some visions of what was going on where he was, but I had no control over it. This year, I've been working real hard on learning Occlumency so I could avoid it. But I've also been learning Legilimency."

He glanced then at Rowena, almost apologetically, as though he feared she would get in trouble if the truth came out.

"I'm getting sort of good at it, but I haven't done anything with it with Voldemort, because I didn't know if he would know I was there.

"Last night... um... Professor Dumbledore?" He looked now uncertainly at the Headmaster.

"It's alright, Harry. Everyone here knows Severus's role. You are betraying nothing," Albus said calmly. "Please continue."

Harry nodded, and now his eyes sought Severus's again, and there was none of their old hatred in them, but fear and concern.

"Last night I saw Professor Snape leaving the building, and I knew... well, I thought I knew he was going to Voldemort. He never leaves during the school week if he can help it, and plus he just got engaged so it was an odd time to leave..."

A slight murmur passed around the room at the news that _SEVERUS SNAPE_ was engaged, and Rowena blushed as she felt the eyes upon her and the ring on the hand gripping her teacup. This was too serious a moment for any deeper acknowledgement than that!

"I figured that Voldemort might be real busy with his Death Eaters and have his mind pretty distracted in the midst of a big meeting, so I thought it might be a good time to see if I could sneak into his head without him knowing I was there.

"It's a weird thing, Legilimency. I was using my Occlumency to hide myself, sort of like an invisibility cloak would hide my body, but instead I was hiding my mind, and I just sort of "sat" inside his. I didn't try and probe anything, because I thought he would feel me, I just watched the images and feelings go by, sort of like a Muggle movie.

"He was very engrossed in.... um... _questioning_ Professor Snape, but he was asking questions that had little to do with what he was thinking about in his mind.

"He thinks in pictures and feelings—I guess we all do really. He saw a picture of Professor Lupin when he was trying to get into Professor Snape's mind, and he felt very triumphant about that. He toyed with her picture in his mind for a while. I saw a picture of him taking her to Azkaban and making her drop the shields there so that Death Eaters and Dark Wizards poured out of the door like a wave. I saw an image of him having her as a captive and trading her to Dumbledore for something that looked like a Pensieve."

Again his glance became worried as he looked at her, and Rowena realized that was likely what caused Severus's fear and anger last night.

"I saw pictures of Minister Fudge in Voldemort's mind, and he was very satisfied and smug with that image. There was an image of Fudge taking the Dark Mark. I don't know if that was a memory of what HAD happened or something that he WANTED to happen; but it was Fudge just as he looks right now, so it can't have been very long ago. Death Eaters were holding Fudge down for when Voldemort touched him with his wand, and he screamed a bunch because I suppose the brand hurt, but when they let him go, he was kissing Voldemort's robes and calling him 'Master' like the other Death Eaters do. That whole set of images was very, very clear."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it all the messier, though Rowena thought she could see his hand trembling. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Molly Weasley move as though to stand and go to him, but she was prevented doing so by Arthur.

"He also had images in his mind about the Goblins and Gringotts. I couldn't really figure out what all that meant, but he seemed to think that he could get the Goblins to answer to him. I saw images of Gringotts being closed and barred, and the streets of Diagon Alley looked really messy, shop windows broken, trash in the streets, lots of people wandering around looking starved and dressed in rags. I think that was only wishful thinking on his part, since obviously Gringotts isn't in his control yet, but that seems to be something he wants real bad."

Now he stopped again, and this time he looked at Hermione, and a muscle in his jaw clenched. For a moment, there was a brief rustling in the room, as though everyone thought he might be done speaking. Albus reached out the short distance separating them, and squeezed Harry's hand reassuringly.

"It's alright, Harry. You are doing fine. Please tell the last of it. We cannot help protect them if we do not know the truth of it," Albus said gently.

Harry nodded and took Hermione's hand in his own, though whether he was doing it to support her or himself was questionable.

"Voldemort views Muggles as chattel. He doesn't care if his Death Eaters do things to them, because he doesn't really believe they are human, not like Wizards. He doesn't really hate them—they are too far beneath his notice to hate.

"But what he DOES hate, is Muggles that somehow interact with or affect the Wizarding world. He hates when they "taint" Wizarding blood.

"While he was _talking_ to Professor Snape, he was remembering orders that he had just given to the rest of his Death Eaters right before the Professor arrived.

"He has ordered them to begin exterminating any and all Muggles that have conscious interaction with our world, starting with Muggle spouses of Wizards and Muggle parents of Wizarding kids. True Muggles are the first to be targeted, and then they will "progress" to half-bloods."

Hermione gave a soft moan of despair, and Ron put his hand on her shoulder. She let go of Harry's hand and turned to bury her face against Ron's chest, as though to block out the rest of what Harry was saying.

"I think that it must be a true memory that Fudge is a Death Eater now, because Voldemort wasn't scared that they would be caught, and wasn't worried about them acting out in the open like that anymore."

When Harry had truly finished talking, he visibly slumped, as though it had physically deflated him in some way to make his 'report'. He reached out and patted Hermione's back as though to comfort her, and he and Ron exchanged miserable glances.

"Thank you, Harry," Albus said kindly. "Ron, Miss Granger, I wanted you to be here to hear the report because I am going to need help from all three of you."

Hermione stiffened, wiped her face with her hands and faced Dumbledore, pale and trembling but clearly determined. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"I know you have continued the D.A. this year," he said in very casual tones, and the three of them had the grace to glance guiltily at one another.

"I want you to talk to those of your fellow students where one or both of their parents are Muggles. I want you to gently find out what their Muggle parent's views are on our world. We will need to act quickly to protect them. I have a variety of options available, and which option I use will depend on their feelings towards the Wizarding world.

"You must be discrete. Do not speak to anyone whom you do not trust implicitly, or allow anyone to hear you questioning others. If Voldemort knows we have learned of this plan, he will act more quickly still, and we will have no time to protect them. Report to me IN PERSON as often as you have any new information.

"Miss Granger, I want you to rest assured we are acting quickly and I will do whatever I can to protect your parents, and the families of all the Muggle born students here."

He squeezed each of them on the shoulder encouragingly and then gently but firmly turned them toward the door.

"Please start at once. Harry, thank you again for your report. I know you would like to stay, but this is not the time. You agreed when I allowed you to be present at some Order Meetings to comply when I denied you access. This is one of those times."

It was clear to everyone that Harry desperately wanted to dig his heels in and stay, but Hermione nodded and took his hand, tugging on it urgently, "C'mon, Harry. We can talk to the Creevy's and Dean right now."

The appeal of having something useful, and URGENT to do apparently worked, because he allowed himself to be drawn from the room, and Sturgis Podmore, who was standing nearest the door closed, it firmly behind them when they left.

The room erupted into a babble of sound as small conversations broke out through out the room, some in fear, some in disbelief, some in outrage. Everyone fell silent instantly when Severus stood swift and fluid from his seat directly opposite Albus; that simple act was all he needed to command attention.

"What Potter says is true," Severus said firmly, "He does have the connection with the Dark Lord that he claims. I do not know if Fudge has taken the Mark, I have long been excluded from "welcoming" new members into the fold, as the Dark Lord has ceased to trust me completely.

"Do not waste time arguing among yourselves as to the validity of the information. Accept it for what it is so we may address how to deal with it."

He sat down again and folded his arms aggressively across his chest. Now the room remained silent, and Albus gave Severus a slight nod of acknowledgement across the table before speaking once again.

"We will have to find out the truth of Fudge's new allegiance. Alastor, can you arrange to be close enough to 'see' the evidence for yourself?"

Moody nodded, and Albus continued with the plans and discussions. He addressed Bill Weasley in regards to their own overtures to the Goblins, striving to arrange a meeting with their leaders before they chose to side with Voldemort. They made plans to surreptitiously encourage the public at large to begin stockpiling of money and necessities.

"Our world is at war, it is time that our community begins to prepare itself accordingly," Albus said firmly. "We need not be taken unaware and watch Voldemort try and cripple our economy."

The general murmur of assent to that comment gave way and Albus forged ahead, now addressing the direct threat to the Muggle families. He outlined an ambitious plan to build temporary housing in Hogsmeade and expand all of Hogwarts' magical shields and protections to encompass the entire area; as well as a plan for magical concealment and hiding of ties if the Muggles involved did not wish to leave their world, even temporarily.

The conversation for the next hour centered on all the necessary details for taking such a significant step, some of it quite tedious and boring so that Rowena found herself nodding until her own name was mentioned by her brother.

"So what about Rowena? You've answered three of the four things that Harry reported to us, Albus, but what about Voldemort's new-found interest in my sister?" he said, plainly worried. "I know she's only one individual in light of everyone else being threatened, but you know... she's my sister!"

"Remus, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of..." Rowena started to protest in sleepy irritation. However, the deep baritone of her husband interrupted her.

"Rowena will not set foot outside these castle walls until this war is over," he said flatly, clearly willing to brook no argument on the subject.

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," she exclaimed, no longer the least bit sleepy, "I have to help with the wards at Hogsmeade—they'll need every available wand and that's one of my areas of expertise. I'm not going to sit in here on my bum when help is needed!"

"I will not discuss this with you _here_, Rowena," Severus said in low, dangerous tones for her ears alone. He was scowling darkly at her, but her own temper would not allow her to back down, and she glared right back.

"Severus is absolutely right, Rowena. You are not to leave this castle," Remus said, surprised again to be on the 'same side' as his future brother-in-law.

"Gentlemen, please!" Albus's voice broke into what promised to be a lovely domestic row, Rowena already reddening in anger and swelling in indignation that would not have embarrassed Molly Weasley's reputation for her strong temper.

The rest of the occupants of the room had been watching with undisguised curiosity, even in light of the grave situation. They had all but forgotten the news of the 'engagement', and it was very entertaining to observe the truth of it!

"Rowena is absolutely correct. We will need every able-bodied witch and wizard to prepare Hogsmeade. She will be among dozens of others, and will be quite safe. Voldemort's thoughts in regards to her were the least pressing—they were only newly hatched and Tom never does anything without thinking it through at great length. Rowena, I will not deny that you are at risk, and I must insist that you not take unnecessary chances.

"But this is true for everyone. Please travel at least in pairs at all times. Make absolutely certain that someone knows precisely where you are going, what route you are taking to get there, and when you will return, ALWAYS. Order members would provide a wealth of information if Tom could capture one of us.

"Everyone should be wearing your emergency Portkey against your skin so that it can be activated with only a word," Albus continued, "As Alastor would say, 'constant vigilance', and consider your safety and that of those around you at all times."

Albus was clearly winding down the meeting, though he had a small smile on his face as he looked across the room at Severus.

"The beauty of this new windfall of information is that there is no possible way Tom can suspect Severus of leaking it to us, as none of it was revealed to him personally," he said with a clear note of satisfaction in his voice.

Severus made a small noise of dissent, and Rowena had to suspect that it galled him to have his primary 'role' this time around overshadowed by Potter!

"I believe that's everything we can discuss today. Those of you who can, please report to Hogsmeade Station tomorrow to begin construction. We have more need of haste than secrecy in that project."

People began to file out at once, and Rowena made sure she was one of the first out of the room, her chin raised defiantly and not a backward glance at either her husband or her brother.

"You aren't really going to let her go to Hogsmeade tomorrow, are you Severus?" Remus asked, almost desperately, as he remained seated, waiting for the large crush of people to leave.

"Lupin, the chit is your sister, is she not?" he asked angrily.

"Don't call her a chit, yes she's my sister, but she's your fiancée! Soon to be your wife! Surely you can make her listen to you? Haven't you got any control over her?"

Severus turned his blazing, angry glare onto Remus across the empty chair that had held the woman they were now discussing.

"Tell me, Lupin, when have you ever been able to keep the chit from doing whatever the bloody hell she set her mind to? Precisely how much _control_ did you have over your sister for the bulk of your lives?"

Remus visibly deflated and shook his head. "Never," he said in defeated tones in answer to the first question, "None," in answer to the second.

Both men jumped when they felt a hand clasp their shoulders. Arthur Weasley, with a highly amused look on his face, had stood up behind them, clearly having heard every word. He now stood with one hand on each man's shoulder and was plainly trying not to laugh.

"Boys, that is one of the most important lessons to learn when dealing with women. The sooner you get it figured out, the happier you'll be. They might let us THINK we have control, but most of the time we don't. It's okay, though. The rewards are worth it."

"Arthur, we should be going dear," Molly said from near the door.

He grinned brightly at the two of them, one angry the other bemused, gave each shoulder a commiserating squeeze and headed happily out the door.

"Coming, Molly."

"I guess Rowena's going to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Remus said quietly when they were the only two left in the room.

"I expect you to be there, guarding her," Severus said with an attempt at a threatening growl. "I will arrive as soon as my last class is complete."

"Of course."

Both men left the room in silence, feeling like they had definitely lost control of the situation somewhere along the line!

* * *

A/N: Whee! Severus and Remus vaguely getting along with each other, too fun! Is now a good time to tell you I've spent my fanfiction reading time sampling the joys of Snupin slash? No, I will not be WRITING any of it, but I have certainly gained new insight and appreciation for those two characters.

More snark, more action, and more angst in upcoming chapters. Tonks will have to leave her current undercover role very soon. We will soon see what Dylan has borrowed from 'Luke' for his DADA classes. And of course rocky-roads for Severus and Rowena.

I'm glad to be back, and hope you are enjoying the story!


	27. Chapter 27: Pain, Poison and Patronuses

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 27: Pain, Poison, and Patronuses

* * *

Predictably, horribly, and utterly unavoidably, Hermione Granger's parents were the first to be attacked. The Order meeting had barely disbanded when the alarm came. Severus and Rowena were left pacing at Hogwarts waiting for news. Aurors not present at the meeting had been scattered throughout Muggle London and other areas, trying to anticipate which families would be the first targets. Thankfully, the Granger residence had been one of the ones under surveillance.

Severus could not go to assist when others of the Order left in a rush, because of course he could not risk being seen by Death Eaters at something that was supposed to be a 'secret' attack—he had no logical reason for knowing of the incident. Somewhat alarmingly, even the Mark on his arm stayed red and silent, rather than summoning him. He was not sorry to be 'excluded' from the event, but it was another example of the Dark Lord's mounting distrust of him.

Rowena spent the night comforting a pale and crying Hermione in their quarters. Surprisingly, Severus even offered his own brand of 'comfort'—as much as he was able to give. He silently provided a pot of tea and some calming draughts, silenced the room so they would be undisturbed, tended the fire so they would be warm, and then quickly retreated to the bedroom with essays to grade! His conscience nagged him enough that he did occasionally rouse himself from the admittedly enjoyable task of hemorrhaging red ink over student parchment, long enough to peer through the door and assure himself they did not need anything more.

In the end, the house was lost and Mr. Granger's body was never found in the wreckage. The normal method of attack would have been to enter the house and "Avada Kedavra" both while they slept in their beds and then flee, leaving the Dark Mark in the sky above the house. But the Aurors interrupted the attack, and the Death Eaters merely rained destruction down upon the house before Apparating away.

Her mother was rescued and brought to Hogwarts alive, but gravely injured and unconscious, with no way of knowing if or when she would recover. Jonathan Lupin attended her there, not wanting to risk a stealthy attack at St. Mungos to finish the job! The house itself was a burned and disintegrated loss, not unlike the Burrow a few weeks before.

Dean Thomas's parents were brought safely to Hogwarts before their house was destroyed. Mr. And Mrs. Creevey had been believed to be safe from the first round of attacks, as their boys weren't in Harry's year or even particularly good friends with him. This was an error in judgement, and they were lost.

The Death Eaters attacked without mercy, and only Harry's warning spared any at all. Once it was realized that they were attacking ALL the Gryffindor Muggle parents first, the Aurors made short work of bringing the rest to Hogwarts so that the third floor faculty and staff corridor became filled to brimming with frightened, tearful families.

There was no more talk of whether or not Rowena would help with the work at Hogsmeade. Every able-bodied witch or wizard spent every free moment there, working frantically, even the older students when they were off from classes. The Aurors spent the next several weeks shunting the rest of the muggle families to Hogwarts; students were doubled-up in dormitories to make room for the influx of parents and siblings.

Harry, of course, blamed himself. Voldemort attacked those closest to him, always. If not for him, these families would not have been targeted, or so he believed. He withdrew even further into himself, refusing the company of any students, barely deigning to talk to Remus when he visited, and snarling savagely at anyone who showed him the slightest bit of concern.

The Hogsmeade construction progressed apace, and after what happened to the Grangers and Creevey's, there were few that refused the offer of relocation, in spite of the inconveniences. Even the Lupins relocated to Hogsmeade, Becky being muggle-born.

It was a comfort to Rowena to have her parents so close. Molly Weasley was busy with the work as well, overseeing many of the finer details of the construction of the housing, "You can't possibly put the kitchen sink that far from the stove, they'll run their legs off trying to cook a meal!" So Becky Lupin took over much of the guardianship of Katrina and began making plans for a primary school in town. The tiny girl seemed to take all the confusion in stride, and fell in love with Becky at once.

October and November passed in this state of frenzied activity. Severus was called to Voldemort only twice, and both times returned with severe levels of Cruciatus damage, closed and angry, unwilling to discuss what had occurred. Rowena 'officially' joined the Order, as did her parents and many others. The time for excluding herself for her own 'safety' seemed to have passed. She could only be of the most help if she was involved.

More evidence of the Dark Lord's increasing displeasure with Severus arrived in the form of an attempt on the lives of the Weasley twins. Fred and George were still active in their joke shop, and used a wide variety of potions and ingredients in many of their 'gags'. They were quite conscientious in always testing every batch of product on themselves first, to ensure that they were safe and harmless.

It was unknown whether the attempt was designed to put them out of business—had it gone undetected and been sold to the public at large, they would surely have been ruined; or whether the perpetrator knew their habit of testing and intended to kill them. Regardless, the boys were sent to St. Mungos early in November, very near to death from an undetectable poison that had tainted a batch of armadillo bile.

By placing them in a continually refreshed stasis-field, they were kept alive. Severus worked day and night for three full days before he was able to concoct an antidote. Even still, the poison's effect was to instantly corrode their digestive tract, following the natural path of consumption. Had an antidote not been found, it would have literally eaten them from the inside-out until they died. The result was that it was impossible for them to drink the antidote.

Only Jonathan Lupin's dabbling in Muggle medicine as well as Wizarding saved them in the end. He administered the antidote intravenously, to Severus's fascinated horror, and the boys were spared. They were in the hospital several weeks recovering but were out and back in their shop in time for the Christmas rush. Their indomitable sense of humor came through undiminished.

The material point here, however, was that the poison was highly advanced, and was NOT one of Severus's. Voldemort was clearly making a point. His Potion's Master was NOT irreplaceable!

* * *

Somehow, through all of this, classes forged ahead. The students did their best to learn, the teachers did their best to teach; all of them felt renewed urgency in the endeavors.

Midterm grades had been sent out, and now the teachers had the added tasks of sending weekly progress reports of the students who had received failing marks to their parents. Each teacher would submit a few lines on the affected students' efforts in regards to their own class, which would be compiled onto one report and sent around for them to sign before sending to the parents. It seemed a laughably mundane concern in light of all the rest, but it was done, clung to as one drop of normalcy in the chaos.

Rowena welcomed the task as one of the few times she saw Severus during the hectic days. He would bring the stack after applying his own signature, and wait patiently while she signed them before taking them on to Minerva. They could have been sent via house elf, but Rowena suspected he was glad of the excuse to see her as well.

His stress these last weeks was extreme, and he had closed himself off from her almost completely, relaxing his guard only late at night when he held her in his arms and made love with her. Even then he did not relax completely, leaving Rowena with an added worry—he seemed to be deliberately trying to distance himself from her. She suspected it had to do with his severe 'questioning' sessions and worry over the Dark Lord discovering his betrayal or their Bonding. Knowing the reason for the distance did not lessen her concern over it.

He entered her office on a rare sunny day late in November, the usual stack of reports in his hands. Crabbe, Goyle, Longbottom, Creevey, even a few Ravenclaws were having trouble in some of their classes from the stress. His glittering black eyes swept over her critically.

"You aren't sleeping enough," he said bluntly.

She accepted the papers with an arch look, "Thank you, dearest, you look lovely yourself. Why aren't you teaching class right now? Isn't this your usual NEWT class time?"

He snorted, "I only wish you to maintain your health. I am not teaching because Howard has received his shipment of whatever it is he's been expecting from 'Luke'. Apparently it is dangerous enough that he wishes to demonstrate it only one time to all the upper years at once. No doubt if it comes from Lucius, that estimation is accurate.

"I would not have agreed to it, of course, but in exchange I am getting my NEWT students out of his class for the entirety of next week." His smirk then was quite wicked. "It will allow me to give the students more difficult potions to have such an uninterrupted period. Not that the dunderheads will succeed in the assignments, but I anticipate being amused by the attempts."

Rowena laughed, "No doubt if the students had a choice, they'd have opted out! I wonder if they know that this brief reprieve from Potions class will cost them four hours straight of Potions next week, three days in a row?"

Severus hummed noncommittally, but it was plain that his sadistic streak was quite looking forward to it! She signed the reports quickly and gathered a basket beside her.

"This is my free afternoon. I promised Katrina a picnic on the grounds if the sun came out. Who knows when it'll be sunny again? Won't you come with us? We've hardly seen you in ages. Hogsmeade is nearly complete; it might be fun to see what Dylan has in store for his students. We could watch and you could point out all the things he's doing wrong."

It was clear he intended to refuse... but the lure of being able to deride the cowboy was simply too tempting. "Very well, I will take these to Minerva and meet you on the grounds."

She smiled radiantly at him and stepped around her desk, standing on tip-toe to kiss him on the cheek. He turned his head and claimed her mouth, snaking an arm around her to pull her close. With a contented sigh, she melted against him as always, meeting his stroking tongue with her own, sharing the brief, stolen moment together.

Too soon, he released her, "Go on, then," he chided, as though it had been she who had lingered. "Don't keep Katrina waiting, I'll be there shortly."

* * *

The grounds were indeed awash in sunlight, though it was very cold. The frozen blades of grass crunched under their feet as she and Katrina made their way out onto the lawns. Dylan could be seen with a large huddle of students around him, and a very tall upright chest next to him.

Rowena laid their thick quilted blanket in the sun, absorbing what warmth they could from its wintry rays. She adjusted the child's hat and scarf against the chill, Katrina's fair cheeks already rosy from the cool breeze. The little girl was almost bouncing with excitement—Rowena had told her that Severus would be joining them, so that she could hardly contain herself.

The "picnic" consisted of snacks and treats, biscuits and treacle tarts, Cornish Pasties and hot cocoa. Neither Molly nor Becky would approve of such fare, but Rowena had decided to be indulgent.

Katrina stared avidly at the grouped students, and Rowena watched as well. Dylan's voice carried easily across the lawns. She felt more than a little curious to know what could be in the huge chest. Harry Potter happened to glance over at them, his face closed and sullen; the self-imposed isolation of the last several weeks telling on him so that he was thin and peaky. He had continued to attend his Occlumency lessons, and surprisingly had continued to show a desperate, almost savage determination to improve.

What startled Rowena at this moment, however, and warmed her even more than the bright sun and hot cocoa, was the sudden flash of a smile that crossed Harry's face as he looked over at them. For an instant, she thought he was glad to see _her_ for some reason, but then she realized that Katrina was waving at him enthusiastically, and he grinned and waved back.

"That's Harry," she said, her childish lisp made it sound like "Dat's Hawwy". "He's my friend. He's real sad too. His mummy and daddy got deaded by the bad men, just like mine. The bad men are hurting his friends' mummies and daddies now, too. Harry's gonna make the bad men go away."

She said it with the matter-of-fact innocence of a child, the blind trust of her new friend, and the absence of grief of a child who has lost loved ones too young to realize the implications of 'forever'.

Rowena could not swallow the bit of biscuit in her mouth around the sudden lump in her throat. Thankfully Severus appeared at that moment, his long form casting a shadow across their blanket before he lowered himself gracefully upon it.

Katrina squealed and threw herself upon him, her arms around his neck, instantly jabbering in German. Across the lawn Harry's smile disappeared as suddenly as it arrived, and he turned his attention back to the class at hand.

Severus spoke comfortably with Katrina, but his eye took in the plethora of treats on the blanket. It was clear as well that his attention was at least partially directed toward the lesson across the lawn. Dylan seemed to be reviewing with the class the proper way to conjure a Patronus.

"Lupin," he said suddenly, and the easy switch from German to English took her by surprise so that it took a moment for him to realize he was talking to her. She raised her brow archly, knowing he still liked to call her 'Lupin' in public to tease her. "Do tell me, is there anything in this 'picnic' that has a vague resemblance to nutrition? Anything of substance? Perhaps something that does not threaten Diabetic coma upon consumption? Or did you in fact allow Albus Dumbledore to pack your picnic?"

"Nothing at all, Snape," she said teasingly in return, "We are having a 'junk food picnic'. I was well able to pack it myself... well, the house elves did."

"A 'junk food picnic'? Good lord, what is the purpose of that?" he asked, aghast at the very idea. He snorted then and frowned, watching Katrina eat a particularly gooey bit of chocolate fudge.

"The purpose is to be a child and have fun, no matter what is occurring in the outside world. Every child needs an occasional Junk Food Picnic. Didn't you ever have one?"

"I should think not!" he exclaimed, as though the very idea was abhorrent.

She laughed and handed him a chocolate chip biscuit. "Then you were robbed of one of the true joys of childhood, Severus, and I insist you partake now."

"Hmmm," he hummed noncommittally through his nose, but accepted the cookie without argument.

"It's only just occurred to me to ask," she said after a thoughtful silence, handing him a cup of hot cocoa. "Where did you learn German?"

He raised his brow incredulously as he stared at the cup. "Even the beverage must be nutritionally corrupt in this ritual?"

"Yes," she said decisively.

He gave a long-suffering sigh as he accepted the cocoa, but then finally answered her previous question.

"My mother taught me, obviously. She was fluent in French, German, and English. My father wished me to be taught German. For many years after the defeat of Grindlewald--whom my grandfather Snape actively supported of course—it was believed that the true strength of the Dark Arts would still rise from that nation, so all Snapes were taught the language."

He was still scowling as he withdrew a handkerchief from his robes and began trying, not very successfully, to cleanse chocolate off of the sticky toddler. "Have you heard Howard mention what mysterious prize he has in the crate? I am highly suspicious. It was provided by Lucius and appears to require a Patronus to neutralize. This does not bode well."

She shook her head, "I don't know. He was talking about something from Texas, and "Luke" was "right kind enough to get one shipped over"."

Severus snorted, "I assure you whatever Lucius did, it was not out of kindness. I think it might be prudent if you would take Katrina inside before it's opened."

"Severus, don't be ridiculous," she said, laughing. "Even Lucius Malfoy wouldn't try to sneak something truly dangerous onto the grounds! Besides there are the three of us, fully qualified wizards, plus all of the advanced students, many of whom are very, very good. Whatever is in that crate can't possibly be a risk on Hogwarts grounds against so many. Don't be a spoil sport, I want to watch."

He glowered at her for laughing at him, but said no more on the subject. However, she noticed that he released his wand from its holder in his sleeve for speedy retrieval.

For nearly an hour the students practiced the Patronus Charm at Dylan's instruction, and even Severus could not find much to criticize. He was firm with the students who were goofing off, quick to praise the students who had it down, and patiently helpful with the ones who were struggling.

All of the students who were in Harry's "DA" club had the charm mastered already, of course, with the exception of Neville.

By the end of the hour, all of the students except Neville had created their own Patronus, and were chattering happily about the form that the creature took, and why they thought their Patronus had that particular form.

"What is yours?" Severus asked suddenly across the companionable silence that had reigned off and on while they watched the class.

It was Rowena's turn to snort. "You know we didn't learn Patronuses until sixth year when I was in school, right? Well, mine is..."

She cast him a glance that was simultaneously embarrassed and apologetic, "Mine is a wolf. I can only imagine that it's because in spite of everything Remus was the primary happy and protective figure in my life, and even after I knew he was a werewolf, that didn't change. He was still my first 'champion', I guess."

He nodded, but said nothing, his eyes now glued to the crate. Howard had moved to it, and was again talking about the use of Patronus back in the 'States'.

"They're real solitary creatures, and they sneak up on you all unawares. If they make a fella all froze with fright before he sees 'em, then they can feed to their heart's content. So you wanna know your Patronus Charm real good. Even if you don't know if somethin's there, just do it anyway. It never hurts, and a Patronus can give you courage in all sorts of situations. We call 'em "Soul Suckers" back home."

"Rowena, get Katrina to the castle, NOW," Severus commanded, standing suddenly, wand raised and alert as the crate door opened.

His urgent tone of voice frightened her more than the idea of seeing one solitary "Soul Sucker" whatever that might be. She complied unthinkingly with the command and the accompanying emotion he sent her through their bond—something he had rarely done of late, but clearly did now to punctuate the need for haste.

She picked Katrina up and began heading toward the castle, but horrified screams reached her ears. She even heard Dylan cursing, yelling, "Shut the crate, shut the crate, help me shut the crate!"

The chill of the day seemed worse than she had remembered, and it was darkening strangely, as though storm clouds had suddenly come and blocked out the sun. Her first concern was to get Katrina inside the safety of the castle. But like Lot's wife, she could not resist the desire to turn her head and see what was emerging from the crate.

Dementors. Not one Dementor, or even a few Dementors... dozens upon dozens of Dementors were pouring out of the open crate door in a black, icy wave. Dylan was fighting valiantly against the draining effects of their presence, trying to force the door shut. Rowena, in an odd, distant, analytical part of her brain, recognized that the crate did not contain the creatures at all, but was merely used as a gateway. If Dylan couldn't get it shut, more would keep pouring out of it indefinitely.

Most of the students were screaming, running chaotically in all directions, anything to get away from the low, sweeping forms.

The bone-numbing cold pierced her, and poor little Katrina fainted dead away in her arms as several of the horrible forms approached their location. Rowena felt as though she were in a nightmare—one of those horrible nightmares where one can see the wicked thing approaching, one knows what one needs to do, but it is impossible to scream, to move, to act... One can only stand in abject panic, watching the terror approach yet unable to do anything to stop it.

The Dementors were not here to attack the school in general. They were not even here to attack the students, though it was plain that they would do so if allowed the opportunity. No, these Dementors were clearly well and fully in the control of the Dark Lord, and they were merely here on an errand.

Several Dementors guarded the crate, holding the gateway open. Others swooped here and there across the lawns, terrifying the students and keeping them disorganized, trying to prevent them from using the one charm that would be effective against them.

But others headed for their main goal, their apparent purpose for being there. Voldemort wanted a hostage. Voldemort had a particular hostage in mind. A ring of a dozen or more Dementors approached Rowena where she stood, helpless and trembling, clutching Katrina's limp form to her. Her senses were flooded with vivid sounds and images washing over her; memories from the fire at the Burrow when she had thought both Katrina and Severus were lost.

An icy cold hand gripped her arm, and it was only sheer force of will that prevented her from losing consciousness as well. She held Katrina tighter and dug her heels in, willing her mind to stay clear enough to resist.

Not all was chaos, after all. The "DA", first fearing that Harry was the target, had formed up around him, and soon cries of "_Expecto Patronum_" were heard ringing loud and clear across the lawns. The other students, emboldened by the uplifting sight of the silvery, shimmering creatures in the artificial gloom also began adding their voices, their Patronuses. Dylan's Patronus, unsurprisingly, was a horse, and it quickly battered the Dementors near the crate away, so that he was able to shut it at last.

Still the creatures surrounding her were clutching her, grabbing at her, pulling her slowly, inexorably toward the crate, no doubt planning to reopen it somehow, or maybe unable to think beyond their basic instructions. Rowena's conscious will to fight was draining inevitably away even as it seemed that the students and Dylan might manage to regain control of the situation after all.

Suddenly a deep, booming voice sounded from the murky shadows near the small hill they had picnicked upon, _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _

An enormous eagle, many times the natural size of such a bird, flew toward the Dementors surrounding her, and massive smoky talons clawed and scraped at the hooded figures. The sharp curved beak raked savagely at shadowed faces, massive wings buffeted the creatures from all sides. They were overwhelmed and beaten back, moving off and away, the other Patronuses chasing them into shadows of the Forrest and beyond, but the eagle did not leave Rowena, hovering over her protectively.

Rowena had slumped to the ground when the icy grip left her, curling her body protectively around the child still held in her arms. She heard voices as Dumbledore, McGonagall, and several other teachers poured out of the building behind her.

Strong arms wrapped around her, helping her sit upright, Katrina still cradled in HER arms. She heard rather than saw Harry approach.

"Professor, I'm alright. I'll carry Katrina for you."

Her vision was fuzzy, but Severus must have permitted it, because the tiny child was carefully lifted away from her, and then Severus carried her inside, followed closely by Harry with Katrina.

"You, my dear fool, are a Pillar of Salt," said a voice much too thick with emotion to carry off the scathing remark with satisfactory snark, and quiet enough not to be overheard by Potter.

"Your Patronus is an eagle," she said weakly, but still full of awe. The crest on the carriage that had belonged to his mother had displayed an eagle. She was distantly surprised that her Dementor-befuddled mind could manage to recall such trivial details at such a time.

"So it would seem. My mother would be delighted, my father horrified. Now stay here and eat chocolate. Your childhood ritual apparently will get to continue for a time yet," he deposited her gently upon one of the cots in the hospital wing, satisfied that there was nothing severely wrong with her.

Katrina was soon with her, cuddled at her side, so that she was content and made no protests.

* * *

The rest of the group from the lawn poured in quickly after Severus, so that Poppy was quite overwhelmed for a time. Dylan refused to take any chocolate until everyone else was treated, and stood next to Dumbledore begging the Headmaster to accept his resignation at once.

When all the students, Katrina and teachers involved had been heavily dosed with chocolate, Albus beckoned the adults to his office. Severus tried to make Rowena stay in the hospital, but she wouldn't hear of it.

Dylan spoke first, wringing his fancy hat in his hands, pacing the room with spurs jangling, "I'm right sorry, Headmaster. I'll book a Portkey home at once, sir. I was as gullible as a newborn calf, and that ain't no way to be teachin' kids defense."

"Dylan, before you continue with your self-flagellation, please tell me what you intended for today's lesson?" Albus interrupted him; his words were serious, but not unkind. "I was under the impression that you had secured a creature from the United States upon which to practice the Patronus. As that is a highly useful charm that I definitely want our students to know, I felt that was a reasonable lesson plan.

"I take it you were not expecting Dementors to come out of that chest?"

"Well heck no, Professor! Dementors you call 'em, huh? We ain't got Dementors in the 'States. What we got is Soul-Suckers. The effect is kinda the same, I 'spect, but I ain't never seen but one Soul-Sucker at a time. They's right territorial, don't take a fancy to another Soul-Sucker on their turf, see? It takes a Patronus to get rid o'one, but they's real easy to deal with. Sunlight weakens them a whole bunch. Any one o'them kids 'cept poor Neville coulda taken a Soul-Sucker by themselves.

"I practiced the Patronus with each o'them loads o'times in class, and we worked for a good hour today before I open'd the crate.

"I ain't never seen them things that came out o'that crate before in my life."

The brim of his hat was curled and bent almost beyond recognition as he fretted at it, still pacing.

"I have to say I'm not usually so easily suckered. Luke's been right nice to me ever since we met. I've seen him talkin' to you, I've seen him talkin' to that Fudge feller that runs your Ministry, I've heard folks talk about all the charities he gives his money to. He's a right grand friend of Sev's.... oh.. I mean Professor Snape. Came to see him when he and the little filly was hurt in the fire and all. I never dreamed he'd do somethin' like this.

"When he asked if I needed anything, I talked to him about the Patronus lesson, and wishin' I could send home for a Soul-Sucker. But they're so hard to ship, see? And Luke was just sure he could get one for me.

"The thing is, Headmaster, sir... you might not believe this, but I swear on my horse Jake that it's the plumb honest truth... I opened that crate last week when it come, and it had a Soul-Sucker inside it, right as rain. I put a stasis charm on it so it wouldn't starve until I could pick a right sunny day to practice for the safety of the kids."

Albus nodded. "I believe you, Dylan. I do not accept your resignation, though I do insist that you inform me of any and all suppliers you use to obtain materials for your class from now on. I have a large list of accepted sources, and would be glad to help you obtain anything more exotic that you might need.

"Please do not use Lucius Malfoy as a supplier anymore. I do not know if he was equally deceived as you were, or if he was the culprit, but either way I do not wish you to accept anything from him to use at this school. What you accept privately between friends and acquaintances is your business, though I would urge caution there as well."

* * *

When Dylan left the room Rowena spoke first, "Albus, you know full well Lucius did that on purpose!"

"Yes, Rowena," said Severus before Albus could respond, "But Dylan must not know that. We have no idea of his loyalties, even now. However, I do not believe he had any deliberate part in the incident today. It was too well planned.

"Had he been as bungling of a teacher as his ridiculous accent suggests, no doubt it would have been successful. It would have only taken one or two Dementors to get you into that gate and their mission would have been accomplished. Instead, he did everything right. The students were well prepared, he chose a very bright day, and he recognized the primary danger of the gate, and closed it as soon as he was able to do so."

* * *

The incident served one very important purpose beyond that which was intended by any of the parties and even beyond that of allowing Severus to successfully perform a Patronus charm at last. It showed him clearly that Rowena was absolutely in danger, and that it was time for him to plan steps to remove her from that threat. By any means necessary.

Additionally, it showed him that Lucius needed _reminding_ of their oath.

* * *

A/N: Oh, poor Hermione! I hated to do that, I really did! And Harry... still withdrawing. Things will get better for him, I promise... but Severus and Rowena are in for a bit of a rocky road.

We will see Lucius again next chapter. Severus is 'seriously displeased'. Tonks is coming soon, I promise; she will not be able to remain in her undercover role much longer.

Thank you again for all the kind feedback and encouragement. It is truly very motivating! And once again HUGE thank you to Elaine! Without her gentle nudges I would not have gotten 'rolling' again so soon! And now I must thank my "beta's beta"—Elaine's husband was able to offer some wonderful advice that really helped me over a huge dilemma! THANK YOU!


	28. Chapter 28: Reminders

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 28: Reminders

* * *

It was not necessary for Severus to go to Lucius for his _reminder_ after the Dementor incident, though he had already made plans to do so on Saturday. To everyone's surprise, Lucius entered Hogwarts School the very day after the event, the picture of perfect composure and yet genuine concern. 

The day was starting with a meeting in the staff room—a common occurrence of late. Quite probably due to Delores Umbridge's short tenure last year, Lucius knew the location of the room and entered without knocking. He appeared utterly unsurprised to find the majority of the staff present, and strode inside with graceful confidence.

He was dressed in the finest of dark green silken robes, his perfect blond hair as unruffled as always. When he arrived at the head of the table, he turned directly to Dumbledore and made a very smooth partial bow. The act did not convey any sense of subservience, but did seem to imply respect. Lucius was master of social subtleties, never giving more in deference to another than absolutely necessary for his purpose. He was not above displaying open disdain for the Headmaster when the situation called for it, but he was here for damage control. Polite respect was definitely in order!

"Headmaster Dumbledore," he said, his tones ever so slightly ingratiating. "I came as soon as I heard. I am horrified that something went amiss with the creature I procured for Professor Howard. I came to assure myself that no one was injured in the incident. It is quite disturbing that something like this could happen within this bastion of protection."

"Good morning, Lucius," Albus said just as smoothly, as though he had been expecting Lucius to interrupt their meeting at just this moment. Lucius might be a master player of the game, but Albus knew the moves just as well—and had many years more experience!

"I thought perhaps we would be seeing you soon. I am quite pleased to report that there were no injuries whatsoever, though we did have a moment of concern over Professor Lupin and a young child. We are of course working to determine how the event occurred. Something of this magnitude will not go unanswered."

Dylan, however, was not prepared or schooled in how to 'play the game', and rose to his feet in agitation even as the two consummate diplomats spoke volumes to each other behind polite words.

"I can tell you how it happened, Albus," he said, throwing his repaired hat onto the table as though he was throwing down the gauntlet. He glowered at the elegant blond man angrily. "Luke's as sly as a sidewinder back home. I've gotcha pegged now, Luke, you won't find me as innocent as a wet foal again!"

"Dylan," Albus chided, but Lucius interrupted him.

"Dylan, my dear friend," Lucius said with a carefully practiced 'stricken' look on his face, "I assure you I had no idea of what would happen. We looked at the creature together, did we not? When I brought you the crate?"

He turned again to the Headmaster, "It was nearly impossible to acquire the creature, and I fear I was not as scrupulous in choosing my suppliers as is my wont, in my enthusiasm to aid my friend. We looked at it together, in Hogsmeade, when it arrived. I would not willingly have opened it for the first time here in these hallowed halls. My son and heir is here, not to mention all the other precious gems of our future."

At this point the rest of the present staff was sitting in rigid silence not unlike that which Snape always utilized under pressure. No doubt they all wanted to join Dylan in his outburst! Nearly every face was etched with deep distrust, but they knew that Albus was the best person to handle Lucius in this rather public setting. Severus in particular was watching him closely.

"Yeah, that's right. Opened it right there in the station with me... suggested that I put the stasis charm on the critter. Ya even helped me do it. Now I wonder what'cha did besides the stasis? I reckon you did somethin' else while I was payin' for the freight!" Dylan hissed angrily.

"It's a right sorry world ya'll have made over here, when a man can't even take another man at his word. I thought'cha were my friend, Luke, an honorable man. I think Texas could teach'cha a thing or two about honor," Dylan said bitterly, and then to the surprise of many at the table he sat down sullenly, and crossed his arms.

"Dylan, I am profoundly wounded," said Lucius, regarding Dylan with his hand dramatically placed over his chest. "Surely you do not believe I had anything intentional to do with this tragic incident?"

"Lucius, as it is impossible to tell how the incident occurred, it is difficult for any of us to know whom to believe in the matter," Albus said gently, though his eyes were sharp and piercing as they gazed at the blond wizard.

"I appreciate that you have made the effort to come and investigate the situation yourself. You will of course understand my position when I inform you that all class supplies have now been restricted to a very short list of approved providers. We would not want any further... _accidents._" The pause before and the emphasis on the last word were very slight, but the implication could not be missed.

Lucius could not currently afford to be quite so blatant in his response as he might have done before. He did raise a brow in displeasure, and nod very slightly. "Once again I see that it is very fortunate that Hogwarts has your rather unique method of running things, Dumbledore. I feel confident in saying that there are few places safer for the children of the wizarding world to be right now than under your watchful eye."

The smile was cool, the gray eyes glittering. He managed to make the "compliment" carry all the chill of a threat.

Before Albus could respond, Severus's deep voice answered with a message of his own... his threat hidden to all but Lucius himself.

"It is well that you believe that, Lucius. Obviously in light of the _situation_ you will be leaving Draco here over the winter holidays... for his own _safety_, of course." Glittering pitch-black eyes bored into Malfoy's from within an utterly expressionless face.

Lucius Malfoy blinked. His polite smile faltered for an infinitesimal moment before returning undimmed. He nodded slightly to Severus. "Of course."

He then regarded the Headmaster once more with another respectful bow.

"I am glad to hear no one was injured in the event, Headmaster. If I can be of any assistance in your investigation, I am at your disposal, of course. I am also more than prepared to make any pecuniary amends you deem appropriate." The unmistakable clink of money in his pocket accompanied the last declaration.

"That won't be necessary, Lucius," said Dumbledore with a dismissive wave.

"Very well, then," said Lucius smoothly, addressing the room at large. "I will leave you to your meeting, though I think I will have a word with my son before I return to my own business."

"Yes, of course. You will likely still find him in the Slytherin Common room at this hour. Severus, would you accompany Lucius and perhaps allow him the use of your office to speak with Draco privately?" Dumbledore asked.

"Certainly, Headmaster," Severus said, rising fluidly from his seat and accompanying Lucius out the door.

When the door closed behind them, Albus nodded in grim satisfaction. "I believe that situation is in very capable hands. Let's see, I believe we were discussing the issue of food supplies for our added population now..."

* * *

The two men were almost exactly of a height with one another. There were few students in the corridors yet, though there was the occasional ambitious early-riser gradually winding his or her way to breakfast. Those who did see these two men, one dark and one fair and yet both sweeping through the passageways with an aura of thinly veiled power, quickly scattered away like frightened mice before hunting cats.

Severus did not lead Lucius to Slytherin's dungeon, but rather took him directly to his own office, sealing the door behind him with a wave of his wand. He then turned on his heel in a swirl of black robes, fixing Lucius with his penetrating glare.

"I suggest you explain your actions at once. Do not take me for the fool, Lucius. Dumbledore clearly believes your silken lies, but as one snake to the next, I do not. We had an arrangement."

"Severus, please. You must understand my position. Your lovely paramour..."

"Tread carefully, Lucius," Severus growled, "The woman is meaningless. She amuses me, nothing more. But she is mine to deal with as I see fit, as we have established. My willingness to protect your heir as we agreed drips away with every careless word."

"Her life is not in danger, Severus, but YOURS is, as is mine if we do not deliver to our Lord what he wishes! You have allowed your 'amusement' to blind you! Bring the chit to the Master. Let him question her and ransom her. She would be useless to Him dead, her survival is not an issue. She would return little-the-worse for wear, and you could continue to be 'amused' by her.

"Your refusal to do so leaves you in very dangerous territory, my old friend," he continued, the threat plain in his voice. "You have no idea how much our Master now hides from you. You are rapidly falling out of favor; his distrust of you grows with each passing day. I am trying to help you. I told Him that you were a willing participant in this capture, which could have gone far in restoring you to his graces. Now he will hear from Nott's son that you were among those rescuing the woman, and his displeasure will be great indeed."

"Do not do me any favors, Lucius. I am well able to manage my affairs without your meddling! You may have succeeded in your attempt, thereby improving my image with our Lord, but at what cost? I was there, on the grounds with dozens of Albus's most favored students and the Defense Professor. Had I not acted, I would have immediately been suspect as an accomplice."

"Ah, yes, but we had planned for that," Lucius interrupted with suspicion etched on his face, "You should have been able to make all the ineffectual attempts at protection of the woman to keep up appearances... and _failed_ without any need for deceit. Since when have you been able to produce a Patronus, Severus?"

Silence rang through the room after this question.

"I have not attempted the charm for many years, Lucius, as well you know," he said dryly. "It is was as much a surprise to me as to you that it was successful in this instance."

Lucius gave a sad, insincere smile and shook his head, "What an inopportune moment for the talent to display itself. We will now have to come up with a different plan for our Lord to speak with the Lupin woman. I suppose it is as well. Dementors are not intelligent enough to understand complex directions. Their instructions were to retrieve her and get her back to the gate at any cost. I understand she had her pet child with her—no doubt the child would have been lost in the confusion."

A knock on the door put an end to the conversation, and when Severus waved his wand to open it, Draco stepped inside, followed by Rowena.

"He came to the Great Hall for breakfast," she explained somewhat apologetically, "and I thought perhaps you had missed each other in the corridors. I knew Lucius wanted to see him, so I brought him down. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting..."

"No, not at all, Rowena," Lucius said warmly, "Thank you so much for your consideration. I was just inviting Severus to our Holiday dinner party. My dear Narcissa holds one every Christmas, and we have long missed Severus's company there. Of course we would not dream of inviting him without including you, and I have little hope of convincing him to attend. He greatly dislikes these sorts of things.

"Many of the parents of Hogwarts Students will be there, of course, and would be delighted for a chance to speak with two of their children's Professors in a less formal setting. May I bring home to my lovely wife the happy news that you will be there?"

Rowena tried to hide her shock and confusion at being rather pounced upon by Lucius. The well practiced charm he had cultivated for years did not fail him, and even as she was not fooled by it, she was also not unaffected! She glanced questioningly at Severus, but his face was expressionless as he kept his gaze on Lucius. Surely if he wanted her to refuse, he would give her some sign?

"I'm not much accustomed to those sorts of parties myself, Lucius," she said evasively, "but if Severus wishes to attend, I would of course be pleased to accompany him. I thank you for the invitation."

"Not at all, the pleasure is mine at the thought that you might grace our home with your company once again," Lucius said with slick insincerity.

"My mother's dinner parties are always grand," said Draco with a smirk.

"Draco, your father has decided that it is in your best interest for you to remain here at Hogwarts for the holiday," Severus at last broke in, his eyes still not leaving Lucius.

Draco's face at once twisted into shocked anger, so that he looked like nothing so much as a spoiled child in the verge of a tantrum, "What? I never miss Mum's parties!" he exclaimed as he turned to look questioningly at his father.

"In light of the situation, Draco, Severus is quite right. It is very dangerous outside of Hogwarts right now, and I wish you to be safe," Lucius said with a tone of firm command in his voice that clearly said he would brook no argument in the matter.

He also raised a brow slightly and tilted his head ever so slightly in Rowena's direction. She might have missed the gesture and its implications, had not Draco looked at her with dawning comprehension and immediately become complacent.

"Very well, father," he said with no further argument.

"So you will attend?" Lucius now turned back to Severus. His face was a mask of polite inquiry, and Severus's was utterly implacable, but Rowena had the feeling that they spoke volumes between them in the silence.

"We will attend," Severus said at last, with a slight inclination of his head.

"Splendid! Narcissa will be pleased. You will receive the official invitation through the post with the details, of course.

"Come Draco, I'm sure the Professors need to prepare for their classes," he said, and father and son swept from the room.

"What was that all about?" Rowena asked in confusion when the door had closed behind them.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between two thin fingers and growled at her, "You are now expected to attend what is little short of a Death Eater gala, Rowena! It will NOT be pleasant. We will discuss it later. Right now I have a classroom full of eejits awaiting my presence."

* * *

They retired to their personal quarters earlier than usual that night. Severus stood near the fire, absently toying with small trinkets she had on the mantle. Rowena changed into a soft, flowing nightgown and robe and curled in the closest chair with her feet tucked under her.

"My loyalty to the Dark Lord is coming under some scrutiny," he said wryly. If that wasn't a drastic understatement!

"When we attend Narcissa's party, we will be surrounded by Death Eaters. We were at the Summer Fete as well, of course, but this will be more serious. I will be watched closely, and expected to display _proof_ of my loyalty if the situation arises. You can rest assured that the situation WILL arise."

"Alright," Rowena said calmly, "So what is it that I supposedly believe?"

"Alright..." Severus mimicked her sarcastically with a shake of his head, "Say that again after the event is over, wife. No doubt you will get to see some small display of the evil your husband is capable of in all its glory. You supposedly believe what you believe—that I am utterly loyal to Dumbledore and playing the Dark Lord and all his followers for a fool.

"You will naturally react accordingly when I '_prove_' otherwise. It is assumed without question that I will Obliviate anything that you ought not recall. If I pass the test, of course.

"If I do not pass the test... there will be unpleasantness. It is very possible that you will need your Portkey to get out."

Rowena simply stared at him in shock, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. "You destroyed all your Dark Magic books and spells," she said feebly.

"Rowena, the destruction of the symbol does not mean that I am incapable of the magic!" he said harshly. Obviously she needed reminding of what he was, what he was capable of just as Lucius had.

"It is still necessary on a fairly routine basis that I prove myself loyal. I've explained this to you before! I am kept out of the most severe games—the torture and murder of muggles for example—because the Dark Lord fears that Albus would find out about it and my cover would be blown, my usefulness as a spy destroyed. But he is not above expecting certain performances of me—either my complacent tolerance of vile acts or even my participation among the Death Eater circle.

"Albus knows I still use Dark Magic... when I must. It is a necessary evil of this ruse that we both accepted long ago. It is very likely that you will be forced to witness it at the Malfoys.

"I would not willingly put you in such a situation, but I have little choice. If we succeed in the deception, they will stop attempting to specifically target you, and I will be useful again as a spy.

"I must attend this event, whether you accompany me or not, because Claire Lestrange is very ill, and I must 'tend' to her. This is a convenient opportunity to do so. If I were to attend without you, it would be even more suspicious and add to your danger in the long run.

"My only guarantee of your safety is that you are currently wanted by the Dark Lord for information, which means all of his Death Eaters have been forbidden to harm you for the time being. It is not much of a guarantee. They have been known to act against his wishes on many occasions. I also do not believe that they will try to abscond with you there. Some story of the more intense activities always manages to leak to the press. No one wants the crime of kidnapping a Hogwarts Professor to be linked with the powerful name of Malfoy."

"_And I have Draco here as my own personal ransom for your safety," _he thought to himself.

"Severus... come sit down," she said at last, watching him worriedly. To her surprise he did sit in the center of the couch, staring intensely into the flames of the fire. "What bothers you more, that I will be in danger along with you, or that I might see you as a Death Eater?"

His eyes shot to her face so quickly that she knew she had touched pretty close to the truth. Somehow he still didn't trust her acceptance of him!

She stood fluidly and moved over to him. In a quick, graceful movement, she pulled her nightgown up enough to allow her to straddle his lap and sat upon it, laying her hands on his shoulders to twine in his hair.

"We'll get through this, Severus. And I won't think less of you afterward. You have to do what you have to do! If Dumbledore knows and accepts that, should you expect any less from your wife who adores you?"

Leaning forward she kissed him gently, but he turned away from the kiss and glared at her.

"You have no idea what I am capable of, Rowena. Do not speak of acceptance until after you have been forced to witness it with your own eyes."

She abandoned her attempts to claim his mouth and instead found the sensitive space behind his ear and nibbled lightly. This was rewarded with a slight hitch in his breathing.

"Don't you know dangerous men are incredibly sexy?" she teased, trying to distract him from his dark thoughts. It was not that she was not afraid—she was! But she felt as prepared as she could be in light of the situation, and was not willing to feed into Severus's brooding concern by adding her own fear to his. No doubt that would come later!

"Sexy!" he snorted with a brow raised incredulously.

"Mmmm," she mumbled against his neck, suckling gently on the skin there, careful not to leave a mark where the students might see, "Very sexy. It's that 'bad boy' image. And YOU, Severus... you have this whole aura of rigidly controlled _power_. You are so cool and aloof, which is just so... mmm... delicious. I always envied the lucky person who might get past that chill to the unleashed passion underneath."

She was slowly undoing buttons of his coat as she spoke, punctuating her words with kisses on newly exposed skin. She had never yet played the role of 'aggressor' in their intimacy, but she was thrilling in it now.

He smirked and deliberately forced his breathing into steady control, even as evidence of his interest now pressed against her where she straddled his lap. "I suppose you think YOU are the one who can make me lose control?"

"I have no idea," she teased, "but I think it will be rather fun to find out..."

"I am at your disposal."

Instead of wrapping his arms around her, or indeed participating in any way, he draped his arms across the back of the couch, slumping down slightly in the seat so that his head could lean comfortably back against the cushions.

His apparent capitulation and attempts at passive resistance did not at all diminish Rowena's ardor. Instead, it was heightened by the incredibly powerful sense of control it gave her!

She immersed herself completely in sensations and his responses. His ears were sensitive, sharp bites there elicited subtle changes in his breathing. He cooperated enough to allow her to remove his arms from the sleeves of his robes, so that he was naked to the waist before her searching, caressing hands and tasting mouth.

Her tongue left a wet trail down his chest as she slid off his lap to her knees on the floor before him. She kissed and bit at the soft pale skin above his trousers, her tongue caressing over any sting her teeth might have left behind. He still made no sound, but he could no longer control the rate of his breathing as she nuzzled against the tented bulge of the trousers. Her hands made short work of the fastenings there, so that she quickly had them undone. He cooperated again in lifting his hips slightly off the couch so that she could pull pants and trousers off in one smooth motion.

He was glorious to behold. His head still leaned back against the couch as he attempted to feign indifference to the proceedings, but his body betrayed his true desire. His fair skin was given a warm glow by the gentle light of the fire that suited him well.

Delicate caresses of her small hands danced over his legs and inner thighs, never quite touching the rigid flesh that seemed to throb in silent supplication for attention. Her mouth soon followed her teasing hands and at last answered the silent plea.

She felt powerful, sexy, and utterly wanton. His control was weakening, his breath catching with a small sound in his throat when she touched him. When the soft groan and change in his breathing indicated approaching completion... she pulled away, thrilling wickedly at his hiss of disappointment.

She stood in front of him and smiled slyly at the smoldering look in his eyes. Teasingly she undressed before him, allowing time for him to regain some semblance of control of his need. She unwound her hair from its confining braid so that she stood naked before him clothed in nothing but the silken tresses. She again straddled his legs. The sense of abandon she had; the power he had given her in this instance was thrilling and she reveled in it.

Even this she did slowly, maddeningly so. The sensation was exquisite! The slow pace allowed her to control their ascent completely. Her hands rested on his shoulders, helping to balance and support her as she rode him. She sought his mouth hungrily and he kissed her back with passion that was almost angry.

At some point she had stopped trying to seduce him to a loss of control. Her own need now consumed her so that she was mewling softly against his lips... so close... so close... She wanted to be touched... needed to be touched...

His hands had balled into fists against the fabric of the couch as though to prevent himself from touching her. But now his head did not lean back passively, but forward as he stared at her, his chest heaving from the force of his own arousal.

"Is it your intention to drive me mad?" he hissed at last, each word forced out between ragged breaths.

"Oh yes!" she cried aloud as the tightening sensation of her impending release washed over her.

"Be careful what you wish for!" he growled as his control snapped. He grabbed her hips and took back some of the control he had given her. She wrapped her arms around him as she cried out his name in sobs of pleasure. He buried his face into her hair, biting the flesh of her collarbone as his groans of uninhibited passion following hard on the heel of hers.

She slumped against his chest dazedly, listening to the rapid beating of his heart that seemed to match her own. Eventually she found her voice once again.

"Apparently I can make you lose control," she teased gently.

He made a small derisive sound in his throat, though his hands caressing her back belied any true distaste, "So it would seem," he said dryly.

* * *

A/N: As always, thank you to my beta Elaine. I must also thank "my beta's beta" as Elaine's hubby helped me overcome a serious hurdle I was wrestling with—Thank you!

The lemon is self-censored by me to meet FFN guidelines. If you would like the link to the site hosting the uncensored version, please email me with 'lemon' in the subject. I am in the process of seeking a new site to post these 'lemons', as it appears my current provider is on the verge of closing.

I am currently housing my uncensored 'lemons' in a viewable-to-friends-only entry in my 'live journal'. If you are a member of LiveJournal, my 'handle' there is "weasleyfan".

Next chapter we will be at the Malfoys once again. It will not be pleasant, not at all like the fete. We will see Tonks and see that slightly scary dark side of Severus. It's proving to be a bit tricky for me to work it out how I want, so please bear with me if it is a little longer to my next update, rather than once a week like I am trying to maintain.

Your reviews mean a great deal to me, thank you!


	29. Chapter 29: Political Games

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 29: Political Games

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was found dead in his bed three days later. The Daily Prophet listed the death as "suspicious". St. Mungos Medi-coroners were baffled—which is precisely what made it "suspicious". Avada Kedavra and a few very rare, select poisons were the only known things that could cause such a death and leave no trace. There was no health condition to explain it.

In spite of the uproar this caused among the media and the chatter it provided for those who enjoyed fun gossiping, there was actually little adverse effect from his death. The Deputy Minister of Magic handled the chaos in a no-nonsense fashion. However, she also immediately indicated her desire to retire, so arrangements for elections began quickly.

The breakfast conversation that ensued on the day of the article was unusually disinterested in light of the news. By chance, only Order Members were at the table at the time, and Rowena felt the tingle of privacy shields when she took her seat. Still, conversation was guarded.

"Severus, have you seen today's Prophet?" Albus asked, regarding the Potions Master with his sharp azure gaze.

Severus had only just taken his usual seat next to Rowena, and glanced at Albus with an air of decided boredom. "Of course not. I never read it before breakfast. It often puts me off my appetite. Is there something noteworthy today that can't wait until I've completed my repast?"

"Cornelius Fudge was found dead this morning."

He did not make the slightest pause in the act of putting eggs and sausage on his plate. "Fascinating," he said sarcastically.

"His death is regarded as 'highly suspicious'."

"He is the Minister of Magic. Or I should say was. If he looked a bit peaky it was called 'highly suspicious'. If he stubbed his toe on someone else's foot, he cried assault. I find it difficult to be alarmed by the news," he said, casually buttering a bit of toast and biting into it.

Rowena watched the exchange with curiosity. She did not miss the slightly apprehensive look about Albus's piercing gaze at Severus, nor did she miss the supremely disinterested air of her husband.

"The paper suspects Death Eaters, of course," Albus pressed, "but then, in light of our recent information, that doesn't seem likely, does it? It would be incredibly foolish and dangerous for a Death Eater to assassinate Fudge just as he was coming in line, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmm," Severus hummed noncommittally. "Death Eaters don't like to share power. It is just as probable that someone was jealous of Fudge. If he was seen as a threat or too highly favored, he could have easily made himself a target. Lucius Malfoy would not like anyone to be more powerful than himself in matters of manipulating the Ministry."

"Lucius Malfoy would not take that level of risk to save his status. It would be more his style to ingratiate himself even more than usual to Fudge and maintain power in that way," Albus contradicted.

"Perhaps," Severus replied.

"I suppose Voldemort will suspect all of his Death Eaters of this for a time."

"No, not all. But some."

"This was a very dangerous move for someone wanting to stay in Voldemort's good graces."

"Most assuredly. _If_ he was murdered, _and_ it was a Death Eater, _and_ the Dark Lord discovers them, then that individual's life isn't worth a drop of Murtlap Essence," Severus said, supremely unconcerned. "Only a fool would do such a thing."

"Of course, I would never encourage anyone from the Order taking such a material step," Albus continued.

"Certainly."

Professor Vector entered the Great Hall then, and took her seat at the table. As she was not in the Order, the privacy ward dropped, as did the conversation.

* * *

The final weeks of term passed in a blur of activity, both in terms of school work and work for the Order. Mrs. Granger regained consciousness, and Hermione spent much of her free-time studying in her mother's room in the hospital so that Severus lost her assistance. He would never have admitted that he found her aid valuable, but now that he no longer had it, he was busier, and surlier than ever.

He also had taken to living in his dungeons again after Lucius's visit. Rowena confronted him on this at once, and he had simply said that he had too much work to do and too much on his mind to be in any humor to entertain distractions. Nothing she could say would sway him, and she was hurt and angry that he would shut her out so completely. Even the Bond, which had initially given her so much comfort and reassurance, was now a source of worry for her. It was always there, she could always FEEL his presence… but the emotions there were just like all the rest of him—firmly buttoned away so that it was like caressing a brick wall when she tried to send thoughts of affection to him.

Harry gradually relaxed as Hogsmeade proved to be secure and the attacks on Muggle born wizards seemed to come to an end, at least for the moment. Of course, the Daily Prophet was vocal in its criticism of the Hogsmeade residents and Dumbledore's actions. The tiny village had been a favorite visiting place for many tourists, and was now on virtual lock-down. Only people with residence there and proper passwords could come and go with ease; no one could Apparate in or out, like Hogwarts, and even the public floos had been locked to general traffic. It was effective for safety. It was unpopular with that portion of the wizarding world that believed all this war nonsense was exaggerated.

Gryffindor easily won their next Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, thanks to the now-expected spectacular snitch-catch from Harry. He, as always, seemed to find some level of genuine happiness in the game and the aftermath. Katrina had clapped and cheered with the rest of the fans, wrapped head-to-toe in Gryffindor scarlet and gold, a miniature version of Harry's own Quidditch robes that he had bought for her. Severus, as might well be imagined, looked on the outfit with severe disapproval, but said nothing.

The invitation to the "Dinner Party" arrived as promised, and Rowena again set out shopping—this time strictly via Owl-Order, but with the advice of her mother, Molly Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall.

It was necessary to brew another round of Narcissa's rejuvenating potion before the event, in addition to other preparations to make the exchange of Tonks and Claire. Severus found it a cruel twist of fate that made it Potter's 'turn' to donate to the potion when he was already at the far-limits of his patience as it was. Miraculously he managed without hexing the imbecilic boy into oblivion, but it was a near thing.

The carriage traveled silently through the crisp night. The stars glittered against the clear blanket of black sky like diamonds thrown to the winds. The moon was nearing full, which contributed to Remus's peaky complexion when he had come earlier to help her with her hair. Of course, worry over Tonks was an equal factor.

Tonight, she had dressed like a Death Eater's Woman. Severus had given her very little instruction, but from the innuendoes thrown about between him and Lucius, she had decided it was time to play her part in the game properly. She was more heavy-handed with her makeup than she would normally be in any circumstance, though she still couldn't quite force herself to go for the garish shades of reds and blues that the other women used. The effect still was surprising, giving a dramatic, almost exotic appearance to her usually nondescript features.

Remus reprised the role he had often held when they were kids, and came to help her with her hair. Her mother had delegated the task to him when Rowena was still very young—she would shriek and holler when Becky came at her with a brush, but managed to sit docilely when her brother did it, so he 'inherited' the chore. He was glad to do it now, as it gave him something to do besides worry about her and Tonks, and what they were about to do.

He helped her pile her hair high up on her head in a series of elaborate twists and knots that kept it secure and her long neck bare, yet still allowed artful tendrils of fine baby-hair curls to grace along her ears and jaw. Her mother did not fully understand what was going on between her and Severus. They certainly did not _behave_ like a newly engaged couple and she hardly ever saw them together. But Becky Lupin knew her daughter had finally connected with the man that had fascinated her for so long. That her husband John respected him from a professional standpoint was also in his favor, of course. But to see Rowena with some level of happiness amidst the chaos was recommendation enough for her.

Becky also lent Remus a long string of diamonds that John had given to her early in their marriage. They were not large diamonds by any means, and plenty of fine, golden chain stretched between each stone. Remus wound this through the knots of Rowena's hair so that it looked as though she had tiny, glittering raindrops among the honey-brown tresses.

The gown was ebony black satin, sleeveless with wide shoulder straps, hugging her form tightly from bodice to ankle. The neckline scooped gently to a point emphasizing her modest cleavage, and the hemline was slit to just above the knee on one side revealing a shocking (for Rowena) expanse of shapely calf when she walked. A long black stole draped across her shoulders and tucked into her arms, trailing almost to her knees on either side.

In her searches for accessories, she had found golden Egyptian-style armbands designed to be worn around the upper arm. Many of these were serpents, of course, but one was a very savage appearing eagle in fight, the wings wrapping around the band and the talons sweeping down the arm as though poised for attack. Remembering Severus's Patronus, she bought it and felt a surge of defiance against the lot of '_them_' when she put it on, tightening it snuggly around her left arm. Severus raised a sardonic brow when he saw it, though she thought she detected the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth, as though he had to prevent himself smirking in approval.

He produced a choker of small diamonds and stud earrings to match, and she accepted them without objection, shivering slightly as his hands brushed her nape when he clasped the necklace. They were nothing like Narcissa's gaudy gems that seemed to drip from her body as though her very pores oozed precious stones; they were tasteful and delicate, accenting her small bone-structure and contrasting with the black of the dress and tawny tone of her skin without looking ostentatious.

Of course, Severus wore black, and today his robes were also of a shimmering satin so that when she stood next to him it was hard to tell where his robes ended and her dress began.

He barely spoke to her until they were in the carriage. Indeed, he had barely spoken to her at all after returning to his own quarters two weeks before! Once in the carriage, he pulled out a small leather wallet of sorts from an inner pocket of his robes. First, he removed two small, paper-thin clear disks, almost like onionskin. One of these he held out to her.

"Place this against your cheek, it will adhere there, like so," and he demonstrated with the second. "It is good for up to 72 hours, Merlin forbid we should need it that long. It is a Veritaserum Antidote. It will burn slightly if it is activated, so you will know if you have been given the serum surreptitiously. Have you seen Veritaserum in use? Allow your face to become relaxed and expressionless, and betray no emotion once you feel the burn. Answer questions put to you however you wish, but be sharp! Do not contradict your lies and do not delay too long in answering! It is unlikely you would be tested with Legilimency while under Veritaserum, as no one outside of the Order, and very few within it, know that I have developed this antidote."

She obeyed as she listened to him, and was surprised that she could barely feel the thin film in place once it was against her cheek. She kept toying at it with her tongue as he spoke, checking it.

"Don't do that!" he snapped, "It will draw attention. The antidote will stay in place on its own; there's no need to fidget.

"Drink this, my current multi-purpose poison antidote. Do NOT rely on its effectiveness. The Dark Lord has new Potions Masters working with him of whom I am unaware. I cannot counteract that which I do not know. Eat nothing that I have not examined first, and drink nothing that I have not given you if you can at all avoid it. It will be difficult, and you must not give offense. It is not uncommon for these events to have at least one duel over some imagined slight or another and the women are every bit as vicious as the men.

"I will have to leave you for at least a short period. No doubt Lucius will wish to speak with me privately and I must attend to 'Claire'. You will need every ounce of your Occlumency. This concerns me, as I am not at all reassured by your insistence that it has improved, or even Potter's accolades at how "strong" you have become. In light of the boy's own skill in the area, I would certainly hope you had talent enough to impress HIM."

"Severus," she chided, as much as she didn't want to interrupt him. This was the most he had spoken to her in weeks, even if he was talking in his cool "Professor" tones and had displayed nothing of affection in his monologue. "He's much better than you think; he's improved a great deal."

He scoffed and cast her a scowl at her interruption, "Indeed, it would be impossible for him to be worse than I think. The current issue, however, is to keep you from being maneuvered into a dangerous position when I am not immediately at hand to offer something of security."

"I'm not utterly helpless, Severus. I will be careful, I promise."

"You have your Hogwarts Portkey at hand? Preferably somewhere that you don't have to waste valuable time fumbling to get your hands on it?"

"Yes, beloved, it is in my brassiere, would you like to see for yourself?" she teased, attempting to shock him out of his cold formality.

It did not work; he only raised a brow at her and the tell-tale muscle in his jaw twitched in irritation. "Lupin, this is not a time for levity. I admit that seems to be a convenient location for the item. Lucius and Narcissa can be expected to offer you some degree of safety, though do not trust them wholly. You will want to be on particular guard against the Mulciber daughters, the eldest most especially. She has long had her silent 'claim' on me, and more than one supposed 'rival' has met their demise in mysterious ways."

He turned to look away from her, his back rigid and his jaw tight, "Do not go beyond the public rooms—the dining room will be open for the meal and the ballroom will be full of cocktails and appetizers. Most of the main floor and the gardens will be open. However… there is likely to be… _sport_ occurring in other rooms of the house. You may… _hear_ things. There is no way you can stop the _entertainment_, and if you try you are likely to become part of it. Stay away. Is that clear?"

She swallowed the chill of fear that ran through her and nodded. Her voice, when it came was small and dry, "Yes. Perfectly clear."

He nodded, waved his hand to indicate she should drink the antidote, watched to make sure she did, and then slipped into a heavy, brooding silence as thick and dark as the black night around them.

She recognized the neighborhood as they approached the Malfoy Estate, as the surrounding houses quickly began to become wealthier in appearance, and farther and farther apart as the sizes of the estates increased. At last they receded altogether, a sure sign that they were very close. Suddenly, she gasped in shock just as Severus sat bolt upright, wand in his hand so quickly she did not see it happen. An icy cold had filled the carriage, and she felt inexplicable terror rise up inside of her. He swore savagely as the numbing chill increased, causing the Thestrals pulling the carriage to shriek in their harsh voices and jerk ungracefully at the harness. They did not waiver from their course, thankfully, and gradually the unnatural cold faded again.

"Severus?" she asked, not understanding why there would be Dementors at the perimeter of the grounds—for surely nothing else could cause that distinctive sensation. More upsetting to her than the Dementors, though, was the sharp, almost painful spike of pure fear that she felt from him through the Bond. Never had she known Severus to be afraid like that! That the fear took him enough by surprise as to break through his rigid control, so that she felt it so strongly for that instant through their Bond, was all the more telling.

The sensation was gone in an instant, and he turned from the carriage window to look at her with inscrutable calm and an utterly flat expression on his face.

"Use your Portkey now. Return to Hogwarts at once."

"What? NO! What would happen to you if I didn't come now that they are expecting us to arrive together? I'm not leaving you to face this alone," she insisted, shaking her head. Still, she couldn't keep the tinge of fear out of her voice when she asked, "Why are there Dementors here?"

"There is only one reason Dementors would be here. The Dark Lord is somewhere in that house. Go back to Hogwarts, _now_!"

The truth is, she wanted to obey. The idea of You-Know-Who being inside the Malfoy estate was horrifying to say the very least! She had no desire to ever see him face to face—it was terrifying enough to know of his existence and see evidence of it in her day to day life! But she also knew that Severus felt this was going to be some sort of test of his loyalty. He was expected to arrive accompanied by her. If she left, especially now that the wards of the estate would have detected her presence, Severus would be in grave danger.

Stubbornly she shook her head, though she was too frightened to speak. His face darkened with anger, and he would have said something more, but at that moment the carriage door was opened by a boy she didn't know, acting as a Porter for the evening. It was too late for any retreat now!

He stepped out without another word and handed her out, tucking her hand firmly into his arm before heading inside.

* * *

The home was dramatically lit with candles and chandeliers; the 'public' room doors all open with elegantly dressed couples wandering here and there. Doorways were decorated with tasteful sprigs of holly and even the smallest hint of mistletoe in deference to the season, though the touches were too subdued to truly appear 'festive'. Rowena thought the parody of 'holiday spirit' seemed somehow sinister in this house filled with Death Eaters! The most popular room, for its sheer size, seemed to be the ballroom, though it was set out as a fine cocktail parlor for this evening.

"Rowena, why you look positively stunning!" Narcissa spotted them at once and glided over to the door to take Rowena's hand in her own. She wore a deep green dress that appeared to be painted onto her flesh, utterly strapless and surely held up quite literally by magic. Enormous diamond-accented rubies adorned her ears, wrists, and throat, and a matching band surrounded her elegant coif piled high on her head. Her nails and lips were painted a matching shade of blood red so that Rowena was hard pressed not to imagine her as some sort of twisted vampire. "I've never seen you looking so elegant and so grown-up, dear. I see our Severus has been a good influence upon you after all!"

Rowena smiled sweetly through gritted teeth. _Grown up?_ Just because she didn't choose to wander around looking like sex on two legs, she somehow didn't normally look "grown up"? She would have loved to say_, 'Thank you, Narcissa, you look like a parody of a Christmas Tree_' but decided that it wouldn't fall in the realm of 'do not give offense'. Instead she returned the empty compliment, "Thank you, Narcissa. You look lovely and elegant as always."

Lucius also approached, and he regarded them with amused approval. "I had a moment's pause when you appeared delayed, my old friend," he said smoothly. "I began to fear that perhaps you would chose not to attend after all."

"I believe the term is 'fashionably late', Lucius?" Severus asked dryly, and the blond man laughed delightedly.

"But when have you ever been concerned with fashion in any form? Do come and mingle. I will need to claim your attentions for Narcissa's ill cousin soon enough."

A house elf passed with a tray full of bubbling champagne in crystal flutes, and Lucius whisked two off, apparently at random, and handed them to Severus and Rowena. "I must attend my lovely wife as she greets the new arrivals. Please make yourselves at home."

Rowena regarded the glass suspiciously as Lucius strode away, but Severus raised his own, scented it briefly, and sipped slightly. Apparently he was satisfied, but he traded the glass with the one in Rowena's hand and began to walk through the room. Gradually he introduced her to the various people that made their way toward them. Rowena was interested to note that Severus seemed to come across as no more easily approachable among the Death Eater set as he was among the Order or his students. Acquaintances came forward with hesitation, and made a great show of being polite and cautious of giving any offense.

She had no doubt Severus had engaged in his fair share of 'duels' in these settings and apparently had made a name for himself as someone not to be trifled with!

They had several unremarkable conversations with parents of a few of their students—Slytherin students almost exclusively. The parental concerns were very like any other parent inquiring after their child's progress and abilities. Parents of the weaker students attempted to make excuses for the weaknesses. Some tried to hint that perhaps their child was being judged too harshly—though they were very cautious in the suggestion. Parents of the stronger students just wanted to bask in the reflected glory of their child's accomplishments.

Occasionally, if they happened to be standing near one of the hallway doors that lead deeper into the house, Rowena would hear things that sounded unpleasantly like screaming. Specifically, screaming of a human being in pain. She thought she did very well not to betray that she even noticed the sound, but her stomach rolled. She knew she was not imagining it, because invariably when this occurred, Severus made their excuses to whomever they were speaking and moved to another part of the room where the noise of conversation would block external sounds.

* * *

Dinner passed without incident, though Rowena had little appetite for the elegantly prepared gourmet dishes. She no longer feared for herself, and even thought that perhaps Severus had been overly concerned in his fears. He examined every dish carefully before allowing either of them to consume anything. Rowena would have thought THAT would give offense, but she soon saw that it was something of the fashion—all the guests seemed to be doing the same thing.

He did not relax as the meal wound to a close—indeed he felt like a spring too-tightly coiled where he sat next to her, and his eyes took in everything behind his mask of impassivity. After dinner the crowd again wandered from room to room, apparently renewing and solidifying alliances and acquaintances.

As he had warned, one woman, Gwen Mulciber, regarded Rowena with intense dislike, even as she favored Severus with warm, almost fawning smiles. She was taller than Rowena, though that was not hard to do, and full figured, nearly falling out of her red silk dress. The dress was strapless, like Narcissa's, but she wore full-length matching silk gloves, so that Rowena was certain the woman must be a Death Eater. She had shiny black hair and crystal blue eyes, which she batted constantly from within a very pretty face.

She took Rowena's hand and examined her ring with feigned congratulations, but her smiles did not meet her eyes. Rowena could almost hear 'Crucio' directed at her from the glance! Still, the woman made an effort to be friendly and even introduced Rowena to other women in the room, gradually but very effectively separating her from Severus.

In the end, women in these sorts of situations seemed to be universal in their similarity. They spoke kindly of one another when in their immediate presence, and scathingly of each in turn, as soon as an individual walked away from the small group.

It was not long before Rowena realized that Severus was no longer even in the same room with her. Perhaps he had taken this opportunity to attend to "Claire". She carefully… SLOWLY nursed her approved glass of champagne, dragging it out as long as she could. She did not want to have to refuse the offer of another and possibly give offense.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the semi-cliff-hanger! The 'party' just got too long. I'll post the next chapter in a few days, it's beta'd and ready to go. Next chapter we see some serious Death Eater 'business'. I hope you enjoyed. I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments! 


	30. Chapter 30: Death Eater Games

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 30: Death Eater Games

* * *

He was gone almost an hour, and it had taken every drop of her newly self-trained self-control not to betray her concern. She was aware of him almost as soon as he returned to the room, but could not turn to look at him, as Gwen Mulciber was currently relating an anecdote and commanding attention.

"Oh, Rowena, you are out of Champagne. You must have more so you can toast me properly on my successful conquest," Gwen said with that smile that left the blood running cold. "It's quite a feather in my cap, you see, to have a cousin of the Malfoys paying addresses to me, no matter how distantly related."

She stopped a passing house elf and began to pass fresh champagne to the small group of women, apparently at random. Still, Rowena hadn't listened to Moody for all these past months or lived with Severus without developing a modicum of suspicion, and she noticed that Gwen picked up the glass she passed to her with an open hand over the top of the glass, her fingers spread across the rim. It would have been easy to drop something inside from the palm of her hand in an unseen instant, and she accepted the glass with trepidation.

"So," said Gwen, with a smile that now lit her face with a fair degree of malicious amusement, "We must all drink to my soon-to-be-announced engagement."

She raised her own glass, and the women around did likewise, as did Rowena, with bland murmurs of 'Congratulations'. But when the others raised their crystal flutes to their lips and drank, "_Accio!" _Rowena's glass flew from her hand, to be caught deftly by Severus who was only a few paces away. No one else would have known him well enough to notice, but he looked paler than usual, and there was a tightness around his eyes that she had come to associate with the after-effects of Crucio.

"My goodness, Severus, are you so possessive that you don't allow your fiancée to toast another woman's good fortune?" Gwen asked, though she looked rather pale and worried as she spoke, and her playful laugh was shrill.

"Only when said woman is trying to poison her," he said coolly. The room had fallen silent from the moment he had raised his wand to summon the glass, and now all eyes were upon their small little group. A collective gasp arose, in shock at the accusation. The other women who had also been standing and toasting Gwen Mulciber all dropped their glasses to shatter on the shining hardwood floor.

"Don't be silly, Severus," Gwen said, fawning and batting long eyelashes, her blue eyes huge in her lovely face. "I wouldn't dream of harming her. Why, look, everyone else who drank to me is fine."

Severus held the glass in his hand out to the buxom young woman. "Drink it, then," he commanded.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," she demurred, "I've had enough already. I would hardly be a credit to my new intended if I over-imbibed on Lucius's fine champagne, would I?" Her smile was a bit frozen now, and she was clearly looking about the room as though hoping for a defender.

Lucius strode forward through the crowd, his wand in hand, "_Reparo"_, he said as he cleaned the broken glass from the floor. A house elf scurried by and collected the glasses, cleaning the champagne from the floor.

"Is there a problem Severus, Gwen?" he asked politely. Another man approached that Rowena seemed to recall was Mulciber senior, the woman's father, though she couldn't remember his first name.

"I am preventing attempted murder," Severus said coolly, as though he had said, "I am deciding between chocolate cake or treacle fudge for dessert."

"Really, now, that is going too far!" exclaimed the Mulciber man. He seemed to be in advanced middle age, but the resemblance to his daughter was clear. "Where's the proof of that?" he asked, swelling like a bullfrog in indignation.

He seemed to deflate at once, and his rather ruddy complexion became blotchy and sickly looking when Severus tipped the glass to pour some of the innocently bubbling champagne out onto a nearby houseplant.

As soon as the liquid touched the living material of the leaves, it sizzled and hissed, blackening the plant instantly before eating its way through the wicker pot and even a small hole in the elegant wooden table upon which it sat. Before it could drip onto the expensive hardwood floor, Severus waved his wand, "_Evanesco_", and the liquid was gone, though the acrid stench remained in the air.

"Very foolish, Miss Mulciber, to try and murder my fiancée with one of my own acids, but no doubt you found the irony amusing?" he asked. His tone was dry, almost amused, but there was only black fury in his face.

"Lucius, I request from you the Right of Champion. I realize it should be yours as Host of this event, but you will grant my request in light of the circumstance?" he asked lightly, though his gaze never left that of the pretty young woman who was now standing in shocked horror.

"You wouldn't dare claim Right of Champion over me!" she said, trying to sound indignant and enraged, though her voice shook. "Daddy, you must make him see reason. The woman is a filthy half-blood and her brother is a werewolf! The Master would never let this be!!"

A collective hiss sounded from the crowd that was gradually surrounding them, approaching to watch with avid interest, though none appeared intent to interfere. Rowena could easily guess that 'the Master' did not like to be referenced in mixed company where not everyone was among the 'faithful'.

"You made your bed, Gwenneth, now you must lie in it," her father said, though he seemed to be aging before Rowena's eyes, and he turned and left the room. The crowd parted to allow him to pass and closed again afterwards, everyone watching with sickening eagerness.

"Lucius," she said, now appealing to the 'host'. "Do not give him Right of Champion, he is not reasonable! I didn't intend to kill her—it's a simple little acid, she would have been a wee bit injured. It's just as he said—it's one of his own. He could have given her the antidote in an instant and no harm done. He accuses me of attempted murder when all I did was a little prank!"

"She is his fiancée, Miss Mulciber. No one has better claim to Right than he does. This is not your first transgression; you have been marked for a 'reminder' to be given this evening already. Unfortunately, I believe your father is right, you have sealed your own fate in this.

"Severus, I grant you Right, but first you must administer the commanded discipline for prior incidents. Would you like me to remove Miss Lupin from the proceedings?"

Severus nodded, but Rowena said, "No!" and moved closer to him, "I don't understand what's going on, but I'm staying right here."

Severus refused to look at her, though tension virtually radiated off of him. Lucius nodded and cast her an amused glance, and then stepped away so that it was only the three of them in the center of the room. Gwen Mulciber now stood as though trying bravely to face the executioner, trembling violently. Whatever was occurring, it was clear that in this house among these people, it was considered "acceptable".

"You have failed to follow specific directions resulting in failure of the final goal and wasted resources. You will now be reminded why that is not acceptable," Severus intoned as though scolding a wayward student. He then raised his wand—his Dark Wand she noticed—and uttered the curse almost lazily…

"_Crucio!_"

The pretty young woman, who had tried to stand so proud and defiant a moment before, crumpled to the floor, screaming in agony. She sounded as though she were being boiled alive in hot pitch! Rowena had experienced the Cruciatus Curse occasionally in her work researching different attempts at countering it. However, her fellow lab partners did not possess the necessary _desire_ to inflict pain to make it very effective. Still, it had been quite painful, and it was shocking to see it so casually accepted by the entire room full of people… and performed with such an air of perfect detachment by her husband!

Everyone else watched in stoic silence. Rowena's hand flew to her mouth and she bit on her knuckle of her finger to prevent herself from screaming with the girl. Her other hand reached out to touch Severus's arm, but she pulled back before making contact. This was indeed upsetting for her to witness—even though he had tried to prepare her for this very thing. Knowing a thing in theory was very different from seeing it in practice. She knew this from years of research… but she was now getting a harsh demonstration of that Truth!

The "discipline" lasted precisely three minutes. When it ended, the screams stopped, and the girl knelt on the floor, panting and whimpering, attempting to regain some level of composure, smoothing the silk of her skin-hugging dress. She was trembling violently. Long, tangled whips of her shiny black hair had come out of the knot to hang raggedly about her face. She was drenched in perspiration and tears so that she looked very bedraggled.

"Stand, Mulciber, and choose your final fate," Severus said flatly, utterly without mercy or even expression in his tone.

The girl stood on trembling legs and did her best to resume her air of defiant dignity in spite of her appearance. "What are my choices?" she asked hoarsely, her voice raw from screaming.

"Draw your wand, or finish the 'toast'," Severus said, with a very twisted smile on his face as he held the still half-full glass of poisoned champagne out to her.

Rowena felt hands on her shoulders—gentle, feminine hands, and a soft voice in her ear, "Rowena, dear, you have done very well, but you must step back now… come with me," Narcissa said, with none of her usual sarcasm or mockery in her tones.

Rowena looked over her shoulder, unaware of how huge and terrified her eyes had become as she looked wildly about, trying to find something familiar upon which to cling.

"That's right, dear. It's distressing, I know, but discipline must be maintained. You've done very well. You can stay here, but you must step back. You'll learn. It will get easier with time," Narcissa crooned.

Rowena stepped back among the crowd, though they all made room for her. The thought that there could be enough "time" in the world for this to "get easier" was laughable! She stood on the edge of the circle so that her view was unobstructed and watched in horrified fascination… what was that Muggle expression? Like watching a train wreck? She was sickened, yet couldn't turn away.

In a flash Gwen knocked the poisoned cup out of Severus's hand. He waved his wand and vanished the tainted liquid before it could do any damage among the shattered glass, and bowed.

"Twenty Paces!" Lucius called out formally, and the ring of people stepped back even more while Severus and Gwen stood back to back and paced themselves apart. Rowena could not overcome the numbness of shock, even as her thoughts whirled in panicked contemplation. The scene before her was almost comical even as it was horrific. How could everyone be so calm when spells were about to fly? Why weren't there barrier charms being erected to protect the onlookers? What if Gwen used Avada Kedavra on Severus?

As if in slow motion, they reached the end of their paces and each spun on their heel, wand leveled.

"_Avada…_" Gwen shrieked shrilly.

Rowena gasped in terror.

"_Avada Kedavra_," Severus said in his normal, calm baritone voice with an air of easy indifference.

The jet of green light hit the beautiful young woman in the chest before she had begun the first syllable of the second word, and she fell, lifeless, to the floor. Her lovely clear blue eyes with their ring of fine dark lashes were frozen in an open expression of terror.

Rowena fainted dead away.

* * *

Voices washed in and out of her consciousness.

"She has a fairly low tolerance for your activities, Severus. Narcissa seems to think that her fondness for you will outweigh her quaint idealism and that you might make a Death Eater's Woman out of her yet. Not that you'd be allowed to wed her, of course, but Narcissa thinks she could be trained to be a tolerable and perhaps even useful companion. I think you'd be safer just to plan to Oblivate her on a regular basis until you've tired of her."

"That is my concern, Lucius."

"Yours and the Master's."

"He wishes information from her still."

"Yes. But not at the risk of her exposing us or learning more than she should. Your path becomes more dangerous every day. You do know the Master suspects you of Fudge's death?"

"He would probably not enjoy the irony of the fact that Dumbledore suspects me of the same."

"Are their suspicions grounded?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You are the master of non-answers, Severus, but I fear I would believe nothing you told me anyway."

"The feeling is mutual, Lucius."

"Undoubtedly."

She could feel a soft surface beneath her, but the back of her head ached as though she had been hit there. The voices sounded familiar, and she remembered the sense of fear and danger of the evening. She forced herself not to try and open her eyes until she had regained a clear recollection of the evening thus far.

Severus had killed a woman. Gwen Mulciber. Dead. The Killing Curse. He had used the Cruciatus on her moments before. Rowena herself had been shocked and frightened. Her fear for Severus had been foremost in her mind, of course. But she couldn't deny the strange sense of unease that she felt at the very casual, easy way in which Severus had performed the killing curse. She had never seen anyone kill anyone else before! To see it at the hand of Severus was more disturbing than she cared to examine just now. She must have fainted and hit her head when she fell. But where was she now? How much time had passed?

There was a burning, tingling sensation against her cheek. She remembered the Veritaserum Antidote there… someone must have given her Veritaserum while she was unconscious!

A door opened and another voice was heard, cold and high-pitched.

"You know what I expect from you. I will remain here, unseen, and not participate so long as it is done properly. I need not tell you, Severus, that this is your last chance to prove yourself to me."

"Yes, My Lord. Understood."

Was that _really_ you-know-who? Surely not! The thought was chilling--more than she could consciously accept at the moment in light of her other distresses of the evening. She still felt thick and fuzzy from whatever had caused her unconsciousness, and so the suspicion and evidence to support it mercifully fled her awareness.

She heard a creaking sound like someone sitting down on an old piece of furniture and the rustling of fabric. Her heart was pounding in terror so that it would soon be impossible for her to feign the even breathing of unconsciousness. She moaned and raised her hand to the back of her head, touching the lump she found there gingerly.

"Ah, Rowena, it is well to see you awake. You gave us a bit of a fright."

She was in a small parlor that she did not remember seeing before, lying on a chaise. Lucius was standing next to her, smiling down at her with insincere concern. Remembering the burn in her cheek, she steeled her Occlumency and gazed at him blankly.

"My head hurts."

"You fell when you fainted and hit your head on a chair. Severus brought you in here. You've been unconscious for nearly half an hour."

"That woman tried to poison me," she said dully, trying to buy time to think while remaining within the appearance of Veritaserum influence.

"Yes, but that has been dealt with most effectively. I'm afraid though, while you are here, that we must ask you a few questions. Try not to be frightened. You will leave here unharmed, and I would not allow you to have any unpleasant recollections of my home."

She nodded blankly. To her surprise, Severus stepped around Lucius, and Lucius stepped away. He looked like a stranger to her. His face was so expressionless that she thought briefly, wildly, that he wore his Death Eater mask. Even his black eyes did not glitter with their usual fire, but were flat and dull. For the briefest flash of an instant she felt a surge of repulsion—not from herself but through their Bond—a signal. He wanted her to use her Portkey, to leave, now. It was strong, urgent, and gone before there was any possibility of detection.

It was an effort to keep her face blank. She swallowed the fear trying to rise up inside of her, threatening to suffocate her. But she held his eyes and lowered her Occlumency for an equally brief flash. _"NO"_, she sent, clearly, stubbornly. She knew that if she left now, Severus's life was utterly forfeit. She would not leave him.

"Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?" he asked flatly.

"Yes."

"What is your role there?"

"I research counter-spells for Albus Dumbledore when the Aurors encounter new Dark spells."

"What about the school wards?" His voice was utterly without expression.

Now she had to be cautious. "I did some research for the wards when we expanded them to include Hogsmeade."

"How do you break through the wards?"

"I don't know." That was true. She had used the same random-generation factor at Hogwarts that she had used at Azkaban. With time, she could probably break them, but she had designed them to be as unbreakable as possible—even to herself.

"_Crucio_!" 

The curse took her utterly by surprise… and coming from SEVERUS!! She had barely registered that information when her body was awash in agony the likes of which she had never, ever imagined. Her lab experiences with this curse had been unpleasantly like being casually dipped into a pot of boiling water.

This was like being immersed in the very fires of hell. Even the strands of her hair felt as though they were screaming in pain. Sharp, burning agony shot along every nerve, every synapse so that she had no awareness of any other existence. Pain was all there was, all there had ever been. Death would be merciful.

And then it stopped.

She was panting and crying, curled in a ball on the chaise, her body covered in cold sweat. She didn't know how long she had been under the curse, hours at least.

"It is very difficult to lie through Veritaserum, Miss Lupin. I would not have believed you capable of the effort. Do not exert yourself so again. I doubt you could tolerate more than fifteen seconds of the Cruciatus. Now. How do you break the Hogwarts wards?"

Fifteen seconds!?! That had only been _fifteen seconds_?? She fell back almost despairingly against the chaise and shook her head.

"I don't know!" she said with more emotion than she intended. Her voice was hoarse and weak, not unlike that of the woman who he killed this evening. She must have been screaming, though she was unaware of it. "I designed the wards to be random. I might be able to work the calculations eventually to break through, but right now I don't have the means to do so."

"That is most inconvenient."

"That was the idea."

"_Crucio!_" 

Again the mind-numbing pain washed over her. No coherent thought was possible. Images passed through her agony-addled brain. Flames. Boiling pitch. The fiery agony of the flaying hex and the raw exposed nerves that burned with exposure to air.

As suddenly as it started, it was over. She was weeping… no that was too gentle a word; she was sobbing wretchedly, cold sweat causing the satin of her gown to cling uncomfortably to her flesh.

"Do not cheek, Lupin. You live at the pleasure of the Master."

"Death would be more merciful."

"The Master is not known for His Mercy. What is your knowledge of Harry Potter?"

Even in her fear and pain, she noticed that Severus was carefully asking questions to which the Dark Lord already had answers. It was an odd sensation to be so numb with terror, and yet somehow retain a pocket of her mind that could view the proceedings impassively. If he had been given instructions to 'torture' her for whatever reason, then she would give him reason to do so… as long as she could maintain her rational thoughts enough to overcome her fear at least.

"He is a 16 year-old Gryffindor student who is very good at Quidditch and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but average at about everything else. I believe he fancies Ginny Weasley."

"_Crucio!_" 

This truly was the fiery pit of Hell. She had no sense of vision, of hearing, no knowledge of the passage of time or where her own body was in space. The universe existed in pain.

Sharp. Stabbing. Burning. Flaying. Agonizing.

Again it was over suddenly, and she found herself struggling to move out of the fetal ball she had curled into. Every joint ached with the after-effects, yet it was almost an ecstatic release to have the pain lifted. Her scientific brain recognized the beginnings of the effect of endorphins. The unnatural euphoria that was likely to result from this, if this cycle continued, would make Occlumency much more difficult. Severus was barely looking at her, but Lucius stood gazing at her intently throughout the questioning.

"Harry Potter. His mental connection to the Master. Explain what you know." The command was clipped, as though spoken through clenched teeth. She could hardly recognize the voice as Severus's, even as much as his face appeared that of a stranger.

"They are connected somehow by the Curse that Failed to kill him," she gasped weakly. They had discussed the curse so frequently when she had worked at the Ministry, and later when she came to work for Albus, that it seemed 'capitalized' in her mind, a proper title, "The Curse that Failed".

"When you-know-who used Harry's blood to return to a body, he strengthened that connection. Pretty stupid thing for a supposedly brilliant evil-master-mind to do, if you ask me."

"_Crucio!_" 

This time, as she descended into the excruciating agony for which there were no words to properly describe… there was an end. Blissfully, mercifully, unexpectedly, she lost consciousness completely.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter will be up in about a week, (Holidays are getting busy). We will see how they deal with the consequences of these 'games' they are forced to play.

Speaking of games, and in a shameless pimping of myself, please check out my brand-new website from my author's profile page. I have enjoyed many Harry Potter based role playing games except for one serious problem—they were almost universally owned, ran, and operated by college students or younger. These "kids" are extremely enthusiastic and imaginative—but also extremely transient. I've gotten tired of my favorite games 'dying' because the owners/administrators lose interest. So, with the help of two other adult ladies (the three of us range in age from 27 to 37) I have started my own game. It has the advantage of being owned and run by someone who's been 'around the block' a while, and will not 'peter out' just as things get interesting. Please come and check it out!


	31. Chapter 31: Losing the Game

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine! I also have to thank Elaine's hubby, though I don't know if he wants to be named—he helped me conjugate the Latin properly for the nasty bit of Dark Magic.

* * *

Chapter 31: Losing the Game

* * *

The next time she awoke, it was to bright sunshine spilling through a nearby window and the hum of activity. Aches and pains that she had expected did **not** wrack her body. The first face she saw was that of her father, diligently performing the "Solicify" charm she had developed. It was odd to be on the receiving end of the charm, but she was pleased to note that it was very effective.

"Where am I?" she asked him, her voice little more than a croak.

"Hogwarts love," he said with a strained smile. "Professor Snape brought you back here late last night. I working on a difficult case, I couldn't get here until just a little while ago."

"Where is Severus?"

"Hi, Rowena! You're awake I see," Remus poked his head around the dividing screen and gave her a worried smile. Tonks was at his side beaming. She looked very thin, but her violently purple hair was oddly reassuring.

"I think it was a right mistake for you not to be an Auror at that," Tonks teased, "Sounds to me like you got a good taste of the business last night."

"Where is Severus?" she asked again, trying to sit up, though her father's strong hand on her shoulder prevented it. She was beginning to feel slightly panicky when they wouldn't answer her, and instead 'probed' their Bond. It was unchanged… like trying to caress a brick wall… but at least the wall still stood!

The other three exchanged nervous glances and then John drew up chairs around her bed.

"He's here, honey, in his rooms I would guess. He wouldn't tell anyone but Albus what happened. I expect Albus will be here soon to speak with you. The important thing is, you two accomplished what you set out to accomplish last night. Tonks was able to swap places with Claire again—she is very ill and probably won't live to Christmas. Tonks has been able to give all sorts of information she heard when everyone believed 'Claire' to be unconscious or insane, so it was worth the risk in the long run. And Professor Snape "passed" whatever "test" he needed to "pass" to keep spying for Dumbledore. So it's all good, no worries, alright?"

"If it's all good and no worries, why isn't he here?" she demanded in that croaky voice that didn't sound like her own. "I was always here for him when he endured that shite. Why is he hiding from me now?"

She felt dangerously close to tears, and was relieved when Albus Dumbledore entered the ward.

"Ah, Rowena. Awake I see. I believe you have some questions for me," he said benignly. His gaze flicked lightly over her visitors, betraying nothing, but they took the hint and left the ward quickly.

"Where is Severus?" she asked for the third time since regaining consciousness, a definite edge of fear and irritation in her injured voice.

"Severus is hiding in his dungeons," Albus said succinctly. "He is very distressed by what occurred. Actually, angry might be a better word. Perhaps enraged?"

"What does he have to be angry about? Isn't that why we went in there? To pass that blasted "test" and get Tonks out? Shouldn't he be glad that we got out of there alive?"

"Rowena, surely you know by now how much Severus takes guilt onto himself for these things. I suspect he could have dealt with the treatment and ultimate death of Miss Mulciber fairly well by justifying to himself that she was a Death Eater. However, being forced to question you in the presence of Voldemort…"

"Oh, no… that part was real? He was really there? I thought I heard things, but nothing was very clear at the time. I think I was trying NOT to believe that he was there."

"Yes. Voldemort was in the room, behind an Invisibility Charm. Perhaps you should just listen while I explain Severus's side of what occurred."

"Why doesn't he come and tell me this?"

"Why don't you lie back and listen and perhaps you will know why he doesn't come and tell you this," he chided gently but firmly. Properly chagrinned, she did just that.

"Severus has been coming under increased scrutiny lately, as you know. I suspect he had a hand in Fudge's removal, though honestly I admit I'd rather not know the truth of that myself.

"I would not have condoned such an action, but to Severus's world-view, once Fudge took the Mark, he was 'fair game' so to speak. I tend to share Alastor's view on the matter: that it does not help us to _defeat_ our enemy if we _become_ our enemy. However, there is no denying that Cornelius Fudge had become very dangerous. A Death Eater as Minister of Magic? I was working stridently to find ways to prove his alliance and remove him from office before he could do any real damage. I was not having a great deal of success. I admit it is most convenient that he is… gone.

"The same applies to the young Miss Mulciber. She was indeed a Death Eater. She was responsible for more atrocities than I would like to think a young lady of her intelligence could possibly do. She had disobeyed some order or another of Voldemort's, and Severus received a command to 'discipline' her during the time he was away from you. Voldemort wanted to make sure he was unquestioningly obedient, and test your loyalty to Severus in the process.

"When she attempted to poison you, her life was immediately forfeit. Voldemort had ordered you uninjured so he could question you. Had Severus NOT killed her, someone else would have, and less mercifully so, and the suspicion of Severus would have increased even further. Voldemort likes to use his 'punishments' as examples to the others, so even though she was 'sentenced' to death by her own actions, the 'discipline' had to be administered first—the three minute Cruciatus you witnessed."

"Albus, I KNOW he only did what he had to do. I don't need these explanations! I just want to see him… to talk to him..," she interrupted, feeling almost frantic.

The Headmaster raised a hand to quiet her and continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"Severus suspected you might be subjected to Veritaserum—either of you over the course of the evening. He also feared that you might be subjected to Crucio if you were 'too stubborn' to Portkey away." Blue eyes twinkled slightly at her in spite of the severity of the subject, "By the way, 'too stubborn' is Severus's description, not mine. I rather think from the sounds of things you performed admirably. I fear Severus does not quite see it that way.

"At any rate, the antidote he gave you had something in it designed to interact with Veritaserum. The end result was a combined effect that would cause you to lose consciousness nearly irrevocably after 60 seconds of the Cruciatus. He intentionally applied it in short bursts to minimize the damage. Voldemort, of course, ordered that he be the one to question you, the ultimate test of his loyalty. When they were unable to revive you after the last application, Voldemort was convinced that Severus had tortured you enough to cause some level of serious damage.

"He was restored to Voldemort's 'good graces' such as they are, by that demonstration. Voldemort wanted to keep you there, to ransom you as we have mentioned in the Order meetings. Fortunately Lucius was the one to object to this, and so Severus did not have to rouse suspicion anew by inventing excuses as to why that would not be wise. Apparently one of the guests among the non-Death Eaters was a worker for the Daily Prophet. Lucius does not want to be tied to the kidnapping of a Hogwarts Professor out of his own Estate. Voldemort saw the logic of keeping Lucius out of Azkaban, and relented, and so Severus was allowed to bring you here.

"Of course, it is assumed that you were Obliviated and have no recollection of these events. Once you arrived here, he administered the antidote to the combined potions… and came to tell me of the events. After which he quite literally sealed himself in his dungeon. No one but the house elves have seen him. Fortunately, there is one that is particularly fond of him and is not afraid to take him food no matter what the state of his temper."

"He's angry with me because I wouldn't leave when he wanted me to," she said in a small, defeated voice.

"Yes."

"Even though he would have been killed!"

"Yes."

"So… what? I was just supposed to Portkey away and pretend I wasn't leaving the love of my life to be tortured to death?" she asked, her voice rising in both panic and indignation.

"I'm sure he's never endured worse torment than to have to be the one to cause you pain, Rowena. He is facing the guilt of that directed toward himself, and the anger at the people who forced him into that position—namely you, me, and Voldemort."

"So what do I do?" she asked helplessly. "He did what he had to do. I did what I had to do. This is a bloody war, not a picnic! How do we fix this?"

"I don't know, Rowena. Honestly I don't. I recommend giving him time. He is not unfamiliar with the trauma of war," he said dryly. "Get some rest. Poppy won't release you for at least a day or two. I'll try and get Severus to come and visit you before then.

"The important thing for right now is that you both survived, and Severus is no longer under the threat of suspicion. That will go far to assuring his safety in the long run. I have faith that things will work out. Love is the most powerful force in the universe, after all. Voldemort can't destroy that unless you let him."

He stood and made his way to the door.

"I'll try to get Severus to come. Rest," he repeated, and then he was gone.

* * *

Sleep was a long time in coming, and was troubled. She was in no way unaffected by what had happened, and Severus refusing to come and see her did not ease her anxiety. In the end it took a strong dose of Dreamless Sleep potion which Pomfrey had to coax her into using.

Dumbledore returned later that evening and asked her to agree to stay in the hospital wing, unseen by other residents of the castle, for several days at least. If she was to be believed 'incapacitated' by the treatment, there needed to be a believable period of time required for her recovery. Draco was not the only Death Eater child who had remained at Hogwarts. Because the request and the consequence of not following it would directly impact Severus's safety, she complied with a minimum of complaint. Her father and brother were allowed to visit her freely, as would Severus have been, had he come. But he did not.

After the third day of trying to entertain and comfort his sister who was nearly beside herself with worry, Remus decided he'd had just about enough. It was nearly Christmas, Rowena looked worse every day rather than better, and if she happened to fall asleep in the afternoon, she invariably woke up screaming. As far as Remus was concerned, Severus was more than welcome to wallow in whatever hell he chose, but damned if Remus was going to allow the git to drag his sister into it!

He had to pound on Severus's dungeon door for nearly ten minutes before it finally opened.

"Go the hell away, Lupin. You are not welcome here," Severus's harsh voice sounded more like a dry hiss as it echoed into the hallway from the darkness of the barely opened door.

Remus was not normally one to solve anything with physical confrontations, but for the moment he was very glad for the lycanthropy that enhanced his physical strength as the full moon neared. It was no great effort to force the door open, even with Snape attempting to hold it closed and swearing at him in the process. The room beyond was utter blackness the likes of which can only be obtained in a windowless dungeon.

A flick of his wand, "Lumos," and the sconces on the walls lit themselves. Remus regarded the man who seemed destined to be his brother-in-law angrily, but the tirade he had intended to deliver died before finding voice.

"You look worse than she does, Snape," he growled, though with much less anger than he felt a few moments before. "Does it mean nothing to you that she's been asking for you for three days?"

Severus indeed looked 'worse'. His hand had shot up to guard his eyes from the sudden flare of light. He clearly had not shaved in days, and the rumpled robes he wore were of expensive black satin—it appeared he had not even changed out of his 'party' clothing from three days before. His usually sallow skin looked almost translucent from fatigue, there were heavy dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble of pitch-black beard only emphasized the pallor even more.

"Get the hell out of my quarters, Lupin, and mind your own bloody business!" he snarled, his face twisted in rage.

"My sister _IS_ my business, Snape. When you put that ring on her finger, you made your business my business too… at least when it involves her."

Snape stalked away from him and sat heavily in a dark leather chair near the empty fire. The room was only a bearable temperature because of the environmental control charms about the castle, but it was still quite chill.

"No doubt she will be remedying that as soon as she has the opportunity, so you can rest easy in your relief. We will be spared any familial ties, and your authority to meddle where you do not belong will also be gone. Get out."

Remus was rather surprised when Severus turned away from him like that. Obviously he was completely exhausted or he would not have walked away so quickly from all the makings of a good row.

"So that's what this is, is it? You think she's going to brush you off after what happened? By the Gods, Snape, for as intelligent as you like everyone to think you are, you can be a right idiot sometimes! She's done nothing less than give you her whole heart and soul, and asked nothing of you in return."

The dark wand was in his hand in the blink of an eye, aiming lazily at Remus, though the anger in his voice reverberated through the room.

"What she got in return was bloody near _dead_. Do not push me, Lupin, I have already proved myself adept at the Unforgivables to one member of your clan. I'm not sure that I would hesitate to do so again. I am certainly not of a humor to test my own limits. One more time, I tell you to _get out of my quarters!_"

"You are a fool, Snape. A bloody cursed fool. You don't deserve her!" Remus hissed, his anger easily a match for Snape's. He was fairly certain that Snape _wouldn't_ curse him, but decided not to test that belief. He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Rowena stayed in the Hospital wing for most of the winter holiday. She didn't want to return to her own empty quarters, and Severus had not come to see her or even sent her any word or inquiry after her. Tonks visited her often, with debriefing exercises to help her overcome the emotional trauma of the actual event. Watching someone be killed is not something one easily forgets. She was soon able to put it in perspective, however, and was no longer needing potions to sleep. If she occasionally woke frightened and even crying, well, that was to be expected.

When her family visited, they smuggled in books and papers from her quarters that would give her something to do and prevent her from falling behind in her marking. End of term grades still needed to be sent out before the winter holiday was over.

She finally announced her intention to be 'well enough' to return to her own quarters four days after Christmas so she could finish her paperwork to get the marks out as expected. Surprisingly, it was this day that Severus chose to visit her, and then it was on 'official' business.

He swept into the room nonchalantly with the stack of student reports as he had done many times over the course of the preceding term. He barely glanced at her, and his tone was aloof.

"I understand you are leaving the hospital in the morning. It is safe then, to assume you are well enough to sign these. The Headmaster would like them to be out with the morning post."

He set the stack of papers on the small over-bed table that she had turned into a makeshift desk of sorts, next to her quill and ink. She had been so surprised to see him enter that she hadn't yet managed fully register that he was HERE. Her eyes devoured him, noting the severe pallor and gaunt look of his face. It had been only a week, yet he looked thinner even than usual. She could easily imagine that he had spent the week alternately consuming himself with guilt and railing at the rest of them involved in anger. It showed.

"Severus?" she said inquiringly, searchingly. He seemed a stranger to her! "Can't we talk about what happened?"

"There is nothing to discuss. I warned you of what might occur and prepared you to the best of my ability. You were given multiple opportunities to leave the situation and chose not to do so. I had no choice in the matter. It is fortunate that you are unharmed. End of discussion."

As might be expected, she bristled at once. However, the week in the hospital wing without seeing him had given her time to think on the matter, on their whole relationship. At every turn, she struggled to convince him of her belief in him, her love for him. At every turn, he struggled to find ways to doubt her. It reminded her of something her mother often told her, _'If it's worth having, it's worth fighting for.'_ Perhaps Severus could not understand the value of what they shared because it had been 'too easy' for him. Nothing in his life had ever been 'easy'.

She decided, in the long hours of solitude, that she was done fighting to prove herself to him. He either had to come and trust and believe in her on his own, or they had no future. She could not bear his constant doubting!

A thin black brow raised slightly in surprise when she inked her quill and began signing the stack of papers in silence. Clearly he had been expecting an argument. It wasn't until she finished the stack and was in the act of handing them back to him that she felt a sharp stab of something like painful longing, or perhaps even remorse through their Bond, though his face betrayed nothing.

"Very well, Lupin," he said, thumbing through the stack as though to make certain she had signed them all.

"Snape," she said stubbornly. She wasn't going to fight with him about her feelings or his worthiness anymore, but she wasn't going to let him forget that she was his wife!

A rather twisted, almost pained smirk crossed his face as he pulled two bits of parchment out of the stack in his hand. He handed one to her.

"Lupin. There is your copy of the Dissolution Decree. This," gesturing with the other that he carefully placed in his pocket, "is mine. I suggest you either burn it or keep it someplace exceedingly safe. I will be having Albus burn the original marriage certificate when I show him the Dissolution. A paper trail in these times is a dangerous thing."

She stared in disbelief at the parchment in her hand. In very Slytherin like fashion, he had concealed the document among the student papers and she had signed them all, out of habit. She trusted him and had no reason to look through the papers carefully!

White-hot anger filled her and she made no effort to subdue it.

"That's all well and good, _Snape_," she snarled, "but it doesn't change the Bond, does it! You were the one who wanted that! What good does a 'Dissolution of Marriage' certificate do for that? Nothing! And why all the secrecy? Do you think I would have held you to a marriage you didn't want? Why would I want to be with someone who didn't want me??"

"The Bonding ritual was an error in judgement," he said placidly, as though he had just said, 'It's a bit chill outside today'. "I believe I have found the necessary procedure to remove it, should you wish."

The diamond ring in the golden band felt heavy and cold on her finger. It was interesting to note, in that remote portion of her mind that seemed to always catalog things rationally even in the midst of distress, that the term 'heart break' was very descriptive. She had not known that emotional grief and distress of this kind would actually manifest itself in a deep aching pain just behind her breastbone. It felt as though a huge, heavy hand was crushing her chest, making breathing difficult, each heartbeat felt bruised and painful. He didn't want her, didn't want to be tied to her. By the Gods, she wasn't going to beg!

Yet even in her grief and pain, there was the anger there as well. He was 'pulling a Remus'. He had to be. He loved her! He had never said as much in words, but she had felt it… through the bond.

The bond he no longer wanted to share with her.

She pulled the ring off her finger and threw it at him with all the strength she could muster in her distress. He didn't flinch, allowing it to strike him. A savage part of her was pleased when it hit him on one fine, high cheekbone, causing a grazed scratch to appear and trickle a crimson line along his fair skin. The tinkling, clinking sound it made when it hit the floor, clattering and skidding against the stone seemed to echo in the silence.

"Should I wish? What the hell do you care what I wish now? Fine. If you can end this thing, then do it. I never asked you for it! I'll be damned if I'll spend my life tied to someone who doesn't want me!" Her words came out harsh and angry, but she was glad. She didn't want him to know how much she was hurting; the grief welling up inside of her was, for the moment, too agonizing even for tears.

He nodded once, making no comment on her tirade, and withdrew his Dark wand, a small, very shiny black bowl and several other instruments from a pocket. He cleared a space on the table next to her bed and set the bowl upon it. When he spoke, it was in the cool, detached tones of Professor to Student.

"To break the Binding requires _sanguis d'cor_, 'blood of the heart'. The word 'cor', in Latin means both _heart_ and _soul_. Arterial blood will suffice. Your left arm, please?"

He held out his hand over the black bowl, expectantly. Too dazed and hurting to care, she placed her arm in the open palm, her wrist exposed over the bowl. In the same motion he used when collecting blood for the Rejuvenating potion, he stabbed into the artery in one swift, clean motion of the knife. She made no sound or indication of pain. Indeed, the slight discomfort was nothing compared to the aching of her heart!

The scarlet liquid that spurted forth in time with her beating heart looked even darker in the black dish. No doubt he had some specific measurement, because at some unknown signal, he placed his thumb over the cut, stopping the blood flow. He then tapped the wound with his wand and used a simple healing spell to seal it. He repeated the process with his own left wrist so that their combined blood nearly filled the small dish.

He took her left hand again in his, his right hand held the Dark wand and directed the incantation. She observed in the numb, rational silence that seemed to be in control of her body at the moment.

When Dumbledore had performed the Bonding, there had been a beautiful network of shimmery white light that seemed to weave them together, heart to heart, and then became invisible. There had been that 'hint of darkness' as Albus had called it, and their blood had been required for that as well. But this magic felt incredibly different, heavy and sinister. As soon as he started the incantations, the 'webbing' was visible again, an intricate pattern of light connecting their bodies.

The blood in the bowl seemed to become some sort of reddish-black ink, retracing the path of this 'webbing'. Yet wherever the blackness touched, the webbing beneath it vanished, as though eaten away with acid, though it left a smoky shadow of itself behind. As each line disappeared, a pain like a physical stab of a knife shot through her chest.

She was unaware of the pounding sound at the door outside the hospital wing. She hadn't noticed when he had entered the room, but apparently he had strongly warded the door against entrance, as someone was frantically trying to get inside. She couldn't even hear his voice or words clearly. All her awareness seemed clouded, fuzzy, as though she was watching the horrible scene from outside her own body, through a fog… though the pain was very real. At last the magical webbing was reduced to the thick, heavy cord that stretched from her chest to his, the largest, most important link.

"_Abrupe affinitatem, Necate amorem."_

There was a sudden slicing sensation, as though she had been split in two right down the middle, an agony so intense and overwhelming that she barely uttered a soft scream before the pain caused her to lose consciousness completely. It was well that she had been sitting on the bed, as she simply fell backward onto it.

The incantation was complete, and Severus staggered against the wall clutching his own chest. Yet there was a thoughtful frown on his face. A faint shadow of the original magic webbing remained, like a smoky mist. It gradually faded into invisibility, but the intense pain did not.

Still, he had expected a huge argument and battle over this solution to their problems that he had developed. In the end it had gone more easily than he had thought it would. He couldn't help feeling that perhaps he had finally 'won' a round in this terrible game.

The door burst open at last and Albus Dumbledore stormed into the room. The aura of power and command that he often tried to subdue and conceal now cloaked him so that his flashing blue eyes glittered with anger. He took in the scene at a glance—Rowena once again either asleep or unconscious on her bed, and Severus standing calmly near the door, a stack of parchment in his hand.

"Severus," Albus's voice snapped, "Tell me you did NOT just perform Dark Magic on another human being in my school!!"

The dried blood on Severus's cheek added stark contrast to the harsh pallor of his skin as he straightened his shoulders and moved the few steps closer to face the Headmaster.

"I did what was necessary," he said, without a drop of remorse in his voice. He began leafing through the papers in his hands and handing them one by one to the Headmaster. "I have released Miss Lupin from our marriage and the Bond. Here is the Dissolution. I would ask that you destroy the original Certificate of Marriage. Here is documentation of the magic I used to sever the bond in case it should be needed information to restore her to health. Here are instructions as to where to find my syllabus and curriculum notes for the rest of the year, and here is my resignation from my post. Of course I will continue in my role for the Order until it is either no longer necessary or my own death makes it impossible to continue."

He met the Headmaster's angry eyes at last, and the fear, guilt, and worry of the past days and weeks that swam in the black depths of his own were clear to the Headmaster's practiced gaze. His voice lost some of its cold impassivity, making him sound almost lost, "I cannot allow her to be used as a tool against me any more, Albus."

"Severus, you poor fool! Do you really think any magic is strong enough to kill the love you have together? '_Abrupe affinitatem, Necate amorem_'? Love endures, Severus. You may have reduced your Bond to a mere shadow of it's former self, but magic fueled with love of that strength can't be destroyed."

He shook his head and frowned angrily at his Potions Master from over his half-moon spectacles. "Your resignation is refused. You performed the Darkest of Magics on another human being within my school. You have committed a very serious crime, Severus. Against me. Against Hogwarts. Against Rowena. But most importantly, against yourself. You will stay here and teach as your contract demands."

"Albus, be reasonable! Imagine how she will feel to be forced to endure my presence on a daily basis!" Severus protested angrily.

"Oh yes, I think it will be very hard for her," he agreed mildly, though his face still betrayed his own anger. "I can think of no more suitable punishment in light of the circumstance than for you to bear witness to the consequences of your actions by facing Professor Lupin each day, professionally. I will not allow you to hide from this."

He shredded the 'resignation' letter and tossed the bits carelessly into the air. "_Evanesco_. I will expect you at breakfast tomorrow."

When the door shut behind him, Severus stood in the defeated realization that he had not 'won' anything at all. In fact, he felt that he had actually lost something of vital importance. He also had the sudden insight that the Dark Lord held nothing at all over Albus Dumbledore when it came to knowing how to 'punish' a man!

* * *

AN: Again thank you to Elaine's hubby for repairing my Latin, which was, before, a horrible mutilation of the intent I was seeking. "_Abrupe affinitatem, Necate amorem" _ means "Break the Bond, Kill the Love".

Poor Severus. From here on out he is going to have to work hard to try and earn back what was so freely given to him before. If he can get himself to recognize he WANTS it back.

Thank you to everyone for your patience—we had a lovely Christmas with our four little children, but as you can imagine, it was busy and hectic, so writing dropped to the wayside for a bit. Sorry to leave you such a horrid cliffhanger last chapter—I hate those myself. Next chapter coming soon.


	32. Chapter 32: Lament, Solace and Lament

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Sorry for the delay in posting—Christmas Holidays and four small children… enough said. Ah, I wish that was enough said. Just after I posted Chapter 31—literally hours after—I received a phone call that my dear 19-year-old niece had been tragically killed in a car accident. This has been a difficult adjustment for us, and I beg your forgiveness if my chapter updates are a bit slow for a while.

This chapter has a very oblique reference to homosexual relationships. NOTHING graphic.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine! Thank you also to Elaine's husband, Rich, who helped me with a serious plot dilemma a few chapters ago, and who also is responsible for the fact that I did not mutilate the Latin in the preceding chapter.

* * *

Chapter 32: Lament, Solace, Lament

* * *

Rowena did not remain unconscious long. The pain stabbed through her chest with each intake of breath, yet she woke gasping for air. It truly felt as though someone had reached into her, shredded her heart to bits, then roughly placed it back inside, where it could stab at her painfully with each beat.

Apparently, Rowena was made of stronger stuff than even she knew. She forced the tears that wanted release aside, and sat up at the edge of the bed. Unsurprisingly, Albus Dumbledore sat beside her bed, regarding her with his soul-searching azure gaze, eyes that were subdued and sad at the moment.

"Rowena," he said her name simply, and she could hear the heaviness of sorrow in his voice. "I had no idea that he would do such a thing, or I would never have agreed to the Bonding to begin with. He has surprised even me in this, that he could do this. Term does not start for a few days yet, you may stay here until you feel prepared to return to your quarters."

She shook her head and washed her face with the clean flannel sitting in a bowl of cool water someone had set beside her bed while she slept.

"It's not your fault, Albus. He wants me to believe he never really wished the Bond or the marriage, but I know better. He's pushing me away to keep me 'safe'. I've experienced this before, though it wasn't quite so horrid as this. I thought it was at the time, mind you, but now I realize this is much worse."

Hadn't she wished that she could die when Remus rejected her on the eve of her coming to school? Hadn't she often thought bitterly that it would be less painful for her if he had just _DIED_ so that she could grieve properly and get over it? Something about her made the people she cared for most feel that in order to protect her they had to push her away. Was she truly so weak and frail?

She had had enough. No more. If Severus Snape expected her to mope about the castle pining after him, he had another think coming!

Her heart was broken. Her spirit was not.

She stood and forced herself to ignore the pain in her chest. If this was going to be an ongoing consequence of the ruptured soul-bond they had briefly shared, then she was going to have to learn to live with it!

"I am going to return to my quarters tonight," she said with her chin set in determination. "Now."

Albus looked surprised, but then managed to smile at her with a small nod, "As you wish, Rowena. I will ask the house elves to return your belongings for you; I don't wish you to over-exert yourself right now."

She stopped and kissed him on his whiskery cheek and managed a small smile in return. "Thank you, Albus."

He followed her out of the room quietly; neither of them noticing the glittering ring on the floor, under the corner of the wardrobe where it had come to a halt when she had thrown it at Severus earlier that day.

* * *

Breakfast at the start of term was a stilted affair. During break, teachers came and went as they pleased for their meals. But when term started, Albus felt it important to all be present at the same time, and insisted upon it.

Of course, few of the other teachers knew what had occurred, and Rowena's usual seat next to Severus was the only one empty when she entered the Great Hall. The lingering pain had been delegated to a mere nuisance so long as she did not give it any of her attention, though it stabbed at her savagely when she saw him sitting there for the first time since he had broken their Bond.

He looked horrible. So often she had thought of him—as did so many others—as being a man with iron-control over his emotions. Indeed, some people viewed him as utterly devoid of emotion, which was ridiculous. For Rowena, who knew him so well, his inner turmoil was etched clearly upon the marble-impassive angles of his face. The scowl line between his expressive black brows was deeper than normal. The crease of his cheek near his nose that deepened with his sneer was clearly evident, as though the delicious scent of the Hogwarts food was rotting haggis instead.

She took her seat next to him gracefully, greeting the surrounding Professors at the table with the usual polite salutations, not excepting Severus himself.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," she said coolly as she reached for the pumpkin juice.

His glittering black eyes raked her face, but he said nothing, only inclined his head very slightly.

It was McGonagall who first gave indication that she noticed something amiss. Her head had jerked upward at the strange formality of Rowena's morning greeting toward Severus, and she looked at the younger woman piercingly. She caught sight of Rowena's hand, again as she drank from her goblet, and her thin brows contracted together to form nearly one perfect line.

"Rowena, have you lost your ring?" she inquired sharply.

Rowena looked up from the goblet to glance across the table at Minerva, and then looked at the other teachers who all suddenly seemed to be hanging on her answer, even as they pretended to be reading their paper or engrossed in spreading marmalade on their toast.

Rowena sipped at the juice a moment before answering to steady herself; then shook her head calmly.

"No, Minerva. Professor Snape and I came to an accord over the Holiday and decided the engagement did not suit us. It was an amicable parting, I assure you," she finished quickly, seeing Minerva's eyes flash dangerously at Severus as her scowl deepened.

It might have been easier to make this lie sound like truth if Severus hadn't returned McGonagall's scowl with an even darker one of his own… and if the cut on his cheek had been fully healed. It was nothing more than a thin dark scratch, nearly healed, and surely did not betray its origin. However it marred his fair skin and high cheekbone, showing clearly that something occurred over his holiday at least that was not "amicable".

Rowena looked away from the two hawk-like scowls. She had gone as far as she was willing to go to keep their colleagues out of their private business. Severus had a much longer history with Minerva anyway. Let him deal with the situation a bit!

It was Dylan's eyes she caught as she looked away, and the usually flirtatious and outrageous cowboy was regarding her with compassionate understanding in his eyes. He gave her a slight nod and touched his cowboy hat at her, then turned to resume his conversation with Flitwick as though he had not heard anything unusual.

The other teachers muttered among themselves, but unlike the excited exuberance that broke out when her ring was first revealed, this was subdued. Soon Rowena and Severus seemed to be forgotten in the normal hum of conversation… though they continued to attract curious glances for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

Days passed as slow as molasses through cheesecloth. Death Eater activity was subdued and silent, at least as far as their information could ascertain, and even Severus was not summoned for several weeks.

She was surprised how easy it was to slip into cool and distant formality with the man who had been her husband for a short time, less than two months. Perhaps it was because the pain in her heart left her room for little other emotion. She forced herself to look at him without seeing him; speak to him without communicating with him. Somehow she could survive, even if she could not live.

Remus took to staying at the school, in turns with Tonks and even their parents. Katrina continued to be under primary charge of the Weasley's, though Becky Lupin spent a great deal of time with her as well. Rowena visited her often, but it was bittersweet and painful. She did not want to drag the child into her grief or taint her relationship with Severus, who also apparently continued to spend time with her as though nothing had happened.

Rowena did not want to be alone at night, though she would not have admitted that aloud for anything. Fortunately, the others seemed to know this—maybe it was a normal response after the sort of trauma she had experienced. One of the chairs in her sitting room was transfigured into a bed, and she had not spent the night alone in her rooms since she returned from the Malfoy's.

Of course, eventually it happened that there was a night when many of the Order members not involved in teaching were out on some important mission or another. Mrs. Weasley and her mother needed to stay back and mind the children of those out on the mission, so that there was no one to spare to stay with her. She was bracing herself for a night alone, with only her ferret for company, when a knock sounded at her door. The ache inside her chest throbbed in alarm, as though afraid the visitor would be Severus, but it was not.

Professor Howard stood outside her door, his ridiculous hat in his hands, and a gentle look of compassion on his handsome face.

"Since I ain't involved in none of that Voldemort business, I thought I might keep ya company for a bit," he said bluntly. She shivered at the name, but stood back from her door to allow him inside. A flash of something in the hall caught her eye for the briefest of moments, but when she turned to look closer, there was nothing there.

"I'm fine, Professor Howard, really," she said with more conviction than she felt. "It's very nice of you to come and check on me, but I don't need a minder."

"It's Dylan, have ya forgot already? I ain't here to be your minder," he said with a frown marring his brow, "I'm here to be a friend. I figure we can all use more o'them, right?"

Rowena offered him a small, tired smile, and nodded, waving her hand to indicate he should have a seat. "I suppose that's true. Would you like some tea, then?"

"It's downright true what we say back home 'bout you Brits, you know that?" he said with a teasing smile as he sat on her sofa, "They say that your homes could be fallin' down 'round your ears, and you'd offer a dude tea. I gotta confess a real bad lie, Miss Lupin… I cain't stand that stuff. Ain't you got some coffee?"

That actually earned a slight laugh from Rowena… slight, but not forced, which was a first in many days.

"Now there is a truly vile substance," she said, shaking her head, but she managed to find a cup and summon some coffee from the kitchens with a mere wave of her wand. "Who would have thought that something that smells so pleasant could taste so rancid?"

She carried the coffee and her tea service to the low table in her sitting room—that now had only a sofa and one chair as the other chair was the makeshift bed—and sat down in the chair opposite him. He accepted the coffee with relish, though he still looked at her with concern.

"I'm breakin' a bit of advice my pa gave me as a kid… he said never to go nosing around in other folk's old boots, cause ya never know when there's gonna be a rattler in there to bite off yer nose.

"But I gotta say, Rowena, I didn't really buy that… how's that you put it…'amicable parting' bit between you and old scowler himself. I'm thinkin' yer hurtin' and tryin' not to let anyone know 'bout it."

Rowena's eyes snapped to his face, and she frowned darkly, "I think that was sage advice from your father, Professor Howard," she said coolly, "I don't find that my parting with Professor Snape is any business of yours."

Dylan raised his hands in surrender and shook his head, "Beggin' yer pardon, Rowena. I didn't mean no offense. I just figure that it might help to talk 'bout it, you know? I'll say it again, I wish ya'd call me Dylan."

She sighed heavily and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, "Dylan, then. I really don't want to talk about it. Especially… I'm sorry, but especially not with someone who doesn't know the situation. You can hardly be objective."

He shook his head, "Beggin' yer pardon again, but that makes me more objective, don't it? I don't have no set notions 'bout scowler, 'cept his face might crack if the dude ever smiled. And I don't have no set notions 'bout you 'cept that you ain't one to have your head turned by purty words or flattery. Seems to me I'm 'bout as objective as you get 'round here. I don't think you can get better and move on from all this unless ya let yourself face it, right?"

Rowena shrugged, but she knew he was right. She didn't want to speak of it, though. It made it far, far too real. Somehow, almost since the instant of the severing of the Bond, she had become numb. She had gotten to where she could almost believe it had never happened—any of it.

He had never married her. Never kissed her so sweetly. Never Bonded with her. Never made love to her, filling her until she thought he was touching her heart. Never wound his soul around hers through their Bond so that she felt her very essence was as entwined with his as their physical bodies were… it was just a dream… it hadn't happened.

To her horror, she found tears running down her face, the pain in her heart as fresh and raw as if it had all just happened a few hours ago rather than days and days ago. Somehow she had not grieved, and by shutting out that pain, she had shut herself off from ALL emotion. Her visits with Katrina were numb and distant. All joy had been stolen from her as surely as if it had been sucked out by a Dementor, because she refused to allow herself to grieve.

To grieve meant she had to accept that it was over. Gone forever and over before it ever even really started. He could not accept what she so freely offered… because he could not believe himself worthy of it.

The gentle trickle of tears became a flood, the effort to suppress her sobs causing more pain inside her so that each breath felt like the rasping of sandpaper across the raw, open wound that was her very soul. A scream sounded in the room, the horrible, heart-wrenching scream of a soul in deepest agony. She was not aware that the sound had come from her. Dylan stood quickly and silenced the room with a charm so as not to alarm anyone, then knelt before her chair and wrapped his arms around her. She sobbed and screamed against his chest, pounding her fists against him in her rage, grief, and pain.

Later, much, much later, the tears were spent. The pain remained, but it had eased somewhat, and she felt as limp and useless as an old flannel that had been wrung and reused too many times, thin and threadbare.

Dylan held her, rocking her gently, even though his knees on the floor must have been in agony by now. He stroked her back and crooned softly, as Remus might have done if she would have let him… though she would never have given him another reason to add to his animosity with Severus!

She had needed this… Dylan was right. She had needed an objective, adult friend to turn to—she was unwilling to 'damage' Severus's reputation, such as it was, with any of those he had to work with at the school or in the Order. She was still, even now, struggling to protect him, demonstrate her affection for him.

Affection he did not want.

"Thank you," she said in a small, hoarse voice as Dylan leaned back to look into her face. He shook his head and withdrew a brilliant red paisley handkerchief from his pocket and began to dry her face.

"We've all be there, honey," he said softly. "I'm thinkin' yer beau made himself a Texas-sized mistake and maybe he'll figure it out one o'these days. In the mean time, you gotta go on livin', right? You ain't doin' nobody no favors pretendin' all's right with the world while yer dyin' inside, see? I think yer braver than lots'o folks would be… because you stayed here. Some folks woulda run away so's not to have to face him every day."

A strange shuttered look came over his eyes, and he looked away, paying attention instead to drying her tears.

She drew a great, shuddering breath and nodded. She felt not unlike when she had been a child and helped muck the dairy barn all day long… covered in filth, exhausted and aching from head to toe… and then immersed in a hot bath. The aches weren't gone, nor was the memory of sweat and hard work of the day… but the bath was cleansing, cathartic… as had been the tears.

Something about the shadow that crossed his face as he talked to her caused her newly reawakened awareness to prickle. "Is that why you're here? Why you took the position here at Hogwarts? Were you running away?"

Now he sat up and returned to the sofa and the stone-cold coffee in his mug. That was quickly remedied with his wand, and he heated her tea as well, sipping his coffee before meeting her eyes again.

"Yup," he said at last, refusing to elaborate.

"Well, she was a fool to let you go," Rowena said, full of indignation on his behalf. "You are a very nice gentleman when you aren't trying to flirt outrageously with everything bipedal. I suppose that's what she was angry about?" she stopped suddenly, her hand over her mouth in shock at herself.

"Oh! I'm so sorry—now I'm prying. Never mind. It's none of my business!"

Dylan, strangely, had laughed, though it was humorless, and he was staring into her fire.

"Well, if we're gonna be swappin' heartbreak stories, might as well fess up. I don't figure yer as judgemental as most, and none of you Brits are as tight-laced as they are back home.

"The thing is…" he hesitated and raked his hand through his hair, "What's the word you folks use here… I'm a pouf, is that right? A Nancy. Call us fags back home. Nothin' very nice, but there ya are. I had a dude; we'd been business partners fer years, on the ranch. He's as queer as a two-headed calf himself, but he ain't got the nerve to tell no one, see?"

He glanced over at her to see how she was taking his 'news'. She looked surprised, but not angry or disgusted.

"The flirtin' thing, that's a cover, see? My friend, back home… I was just startin' to hope that he was ready to admit there was somethin' there with us. I won't gross ya out with none o'the details, but there was chemistry there, real fire. His family ranch's right next to mine. We been workin' the land and the herds together since we was kids.

"And last June his ma told him if'n he didn't marry the gal they'd picked for him—only daughter o'the ranch on the other side of theirs—then they'd let his younger brother have the ranch, 'cause his brother wanted to marry the gal.

"Well… Josh, he loves that ranch. Looks like he loves it more'n me, cause I got an invite to the weddin' same day's I got the offer for this job. So. Here I am. You ain't the only ones who's folks still try and arrange marriages, only ours has nuthin to do with magic back home. Josh's a wizard, but he ain't had proper schoolin'. Dropped out after a couple o'years to tend the ranch. The gal's Muggle."

He took another swig of his coffee and cast a slightly vulnerable glance at Rowena.

"That's horrible!" she exclaimed. "How could someone chose a bit of old dirt over a person they loved?"

Dylan actually winced at this. "A bit of old dirt? Aw, honey, you ain't really got an idea of what it's like to work that land."

"Yes I do, my grandparents farmed and milked cows. I loved the farm; I'd go back now if it were safe to do so, just to be in the wide-open space. I even had a horse." She smiled softly at the memory of her old mare. "Nothing to your Jake, but she was mine, and I could ride her pretty well. Um… English saddle, of course. But I'd never pick that bit of earth over anyone I cared about!"

He shrugged. "Well, anyway, it's long over now. Weddin' was back in November, after the harvest and before spring calvin'. They didn't bother to send me an announcement, o'course. I think it was the last kindness he could do for me, not to hurt me anymore'n I already was. I ain't seen him since the day I got the invite.

"That ain't the worst of it, though. The worst is that I knew I'd never really be over it. That's why Luke was able to hoodwink me so easy, see? Luke is the very image o'my Josh—what Josh'll look like in 10 years or so, anyway. He's got that fancy Brit way o'talkin' that would send Josh into fits of laughin' but he's still got the look. Somethin' right powerful 'bout a man who can tie his hair back with a bit o'black velvet ribbon and still look masculine and sexy, don't ya think?"

Rowena couldn't help it… she laughed… a rich, full laugh that felt as though it was a balm to the tattered shreds of her own heart, her eyes met Dylan's who's were also twinkling with mirth, and he laughed as well.

"Well, how many men do you know that could carry that off?" he asked between guffaws.

Rowena crinkled her nose and shook her head, trying to speak between peals of giggles. "Lucius Malfoy is one of the most evil Dark Wizards in Britain!" she exclaimed. "I have NEVER considered him anything other than vicious and frightening. You… you make him sound… comical… 'a bit o' black velvet ribbon'… "

The shared laughter at Lucius's expense eventually died away to leave her feeling even more drained than before, though more healed as well. Her exhaustion got the better of her, and she leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes.

One of her last waking thoughts was for Severus… worried for him. She did not really believe he was hurting any less than she was. She still believed in the depths of her soul that he had loved her… maybe still loved her. He had no one who would care for him enough to help him like Dylan had helped her.

That was the problem, though. He pushed everyone away who might offer him help, comfort, friendship, acceptance. He believed he _DESERVED _this pain. She knew that, had seen evidence of it time and again. Until he could find his own peace and somehow manage to believe he deserved to have and to feel love and affection… there was nothing… _NOTHING_ she could do for him.

And THAT, he had to find on his own.

* * *

Severus slammed the door to his quarters so hard that glass instruments on the shelves rattled. Remus had told him that they had been cautious not to leave Rowena alone at night after… after…

After **_HE_** had tortured her.

It was Remus who had come to him this afternoon, informed him of the raids, simultaneously on two locations—Voldemort had enslaved muggles that he intended to turn into werewolves. He intended to use the Wolfsbane potion to enable the creatures to keep their human minds during transformation—so that he could then control those minds.

Voldemort, with an army of werwolves! It was a very chilling thought.

Severus could not participate in the raid—he could not know about it. He was not suited to nursemaid the children of those going out. There was little he could do but swoop around the corridors looking for miscreants. But Remus had asked him to look in on Rowena. Severus had wanted to curse him into nothing more than a greasy spatter on the wall… but he understood the request. Rowena had made good show of normalcy, but he knew she woke screaming in the night.

It had taken some time to 'make amends' with his familiar, who seemed to be as angry with him as everyone else over what he had done. But at last the creature agreed to monitor her. He saw her, through Phantom's eyes, clinging tearfully to her brother, Tonks, her mother, when they woke her from screaming nightmares. The stubborn fool woman refused potions for sleep!

Dumbledore displayed his anger by icy cool behavior, and his own sort of 'Detention'. It was not possible for the Headmaster to reveal to any others the true severity of what he had done—it was still imperative that no one know they had been Bonded.

No, instead, he was confined to the castle, to regularly scheduled meals that he normally paid little attention to, to certain hours within the staff room…and to personally oversee all Gryffindor detentions.

The former was of course designed to make him face, every day, over and over again, the depth of the damage he had done to Rowena Lupin. Her innocent doe eyes would not meet his; her tawny complexion becoming pale and sallow, her face becoming thin and drawn. He had done that to her. He could not remember the last time he had seen her smile.

His fault.

The latter was simply to add insult to injury. Dumbledore knew he would punish himself far more than anything anyone else could do to him. Bloody Hell, a few hours under the Dark Lord's Cruciatus would surely seem like bliss compared to the constant pain in his chest and the constant reopening of that wound when he had to see her. But Dumbledore was angry, and the man could be as vicious in his anger as Voldemort in his own way.

If Severus wanted to be punished, by the Gods, Albus Dumbledore would punish him!

After the evening meal, this day, he had retreated to the solitude of his quarters. Rowena still sat next to him at meals. Still spoke to the other teachers as though the world had kept spinning. Yet tonight there was a tremble in her voice and dark circles under her eyes, the scent of fear about her. Tonight, no one would be there to watch over her while she slept, and she was trying to put on a brave face, as though she needed no one.

With no detentions to oversee, he brooded. He toyed with the bit of gold and glittering stone he pulled out of his pocket—the ring that his ferret had found and brought to him a week ago. His ring, that had once been on her finger. Phantom had bit him savagely when he deposited the thing in his palm. He hadn't noticed. The fire inside the stone even seemed flat and dull.

He could touch nothing beautiful without it resulting in its destruction. He understood that now.

After student curfew, he had swept through the corridors, pretending he was not going where he was going. He would only inquire as to her health, offer her a dreamless sleep potion—surely she would accept one under the circumstances! Then he would return to his quarters. Maybe a dreamless sleep potion would be in order for himself. Then again, he didn't deserve such comfort.

He heard the knock before he rounded the corner to her corridor, saw the cowboy standing there, hat in his hands, as though a supplicant at an alter. He heard the lazy drawl of the man, the soft response of the woman, the door opened wider… he left as quickly as he could, confident that his black robes in the dark hallway would conceal him.

Rage filled him as he stormed back to the shelter of his dungeons. He thought he could slam the door hard enough to rattle the entire castle, and was disappointed when it did not crash down upon him and obliterate him at last.

He stared at the fire, long into the night, the tiny bit of gold and precious stone digging into the palm of his hand where he clenched it tightly. Agony tore through his chest with every breath. Pain, rage. Wild, violent emotions that he refused to give power by naming. Albus said the Dark Lord's name freely; insisting that fear of the name increased fear of the thing itself. He did not understand—naming a thing, recognizing it for what it was—gave it _power_.

He did not name jealousy. He did not name grief, or love, or loss, or heartbreak.

Severus Snape most certainly did NOT weep.

* * *

A/N: Like all tragic things, they must get worse before they can get better. Grief must be processed before there can be healing. Next chapter will reveal what is going on with Order Members out on the raid.

I will not be writing any slash in this story, please forgive me anyone who is offended by this mild reference. I personally have no problem with the genre and enjoy reading slash fanfics myself—I just won't be writing one here.

Thank you to everyone's kind words of compassion and comfort over the loss of my niece. She was a bright, vibrant, shining star in our lives, and will be sorely missed. The story will continue to its completion. Meghan lived life to the fullest, she would not want us to do it any other way.


	33. Chapter 33: New Concepts

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

The Werewolf lore in here is mostly of my own compilings of years of playing AD&D, watching many werewolf movies, and reading many books and fanfics on the creatures, as well as input and discussion on the topic on my RPG, as I play Remus there. Please consider it 'artistic license'.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 33: New Concepts

* * *

There was no time to waste worrying about what he might find beyond that door. Every second was precious.

He wasn't even aware of the hour.

He had fallen asleep before his fire—the nearly empty grate in his dungeons that cast limited light into his own personal darkness. It would not have been lit at all if not for the House Elves who had been told to keep it lit enough for floo communication. He sat there for hours, deep in contemplation and soul-searching over the choices he had made in his life. He had come to no comforting conclusions. Even the self-defensive assurance that he had made the best choices he could at the time, (except the worst choice of all), brought no comfort.

Now all thoughts of self had to be pushed firmly and completely aside, at least as much as possible. No easy task for the consummate Slytherin.

The missive had been urgent, and he had no time to spare for his own discomfort in the face of the news he was about to impart to the woman he had already hurt so much.

Telling himself all this did not make it any easier to see the sight he saw when he burst through her wards and flung the door open. Part of his consciousness made a mental note to chide her later for not changing the wards since their separation, but this was not the time.

They hadn't even had the decency to move to the bedroom! She was asleep on that ridiculous cot transfigured out of her chair, and the filthy cowboy was lying next to her, arms around her, her head cradled on his shoulder, honey-brown hair spilling in a shimmery cascade around them.

Granted, she appeared to be fully dressed in her lounge robes, under the thick blankets. The cowboy was still in his revolting attire, complete with shiny belt-buckle, and lying on top of the coverlet. Neither of these facts registered with Snape or soothed the raging fury that suddenly threatened to consume him.

Both of them sat up quickly, blinking painfully at the lights that had flared to life when Severus waved his wand. His expression betrayed nothing. Not the pain of jealousy, nor the deeper pain of compassion.

"Lupin. You must come at once. To St. Mungo's. There has been an injury."

Concealing his own emotions was something at which he was very, very adept. Being tactful or cautious of someone else's was NOT. He could see the panic rising in her wide, shocked eyes and the pallor of her face, even as she sought to disentangle herself from the blankets and put on shoes.

"Katrina?" she asked hoarsely, still sleep-befuddled and unable to think logically who might have been injured at this hour, her brain scrambling to wake up, to grasp at known facts and piece them together. Date. Time. Dylan here—having comforted her as she wept after yet another nightmare—because everyone else was gone. Why? Where were the others? Oh, yes, there had been a raid.

"Remus?" she asked again when he was silent, a definite edge of panic in her voice now. A muscle twitched in Severus's jaw, and he nodded his head once, very slightly.

The pained sound that she made, the agonized whimper of protest pierced him. "He lives. I know nothing else. Albus said you must come at once. Your father has already summoned your mother. Come!"

The cowboy had donned his boots during the brief exchange and made to follow them as Severus nearly ran her to the floo in the Hospital wing—the only one in the building connected to St. Mungo's. Severus sneered at him angrily.

"I do not recall saying your presence was needed, Howard," he said sharply.

"I'm thinkin' that if her brother's hurt, she'll be wantin' the support of friends," he said calmly. He was enough taller than both Rowena and Severus that his long strides had no difficulty keeping up with the frantic pace.

Unconsciously Severus's hand tightened possessively on her arm. "She will have all the support she needs."

"I reckon that the support of an ex-beau who has never got on too good with her brother ain't the kind o'support she's needin' just now," Dylan said, clearly undeterred.

"Stop your bickering! Both of you!" Rowena cried, all but running in her hurry to get to the floo. Poppy was already standing at the door of the hospital wing, wringing her hands anxiously and waving them in to hurry them on.

Rowena ran to the fire, grabbed a handful of the floo powder Poppy had set out, threw it in with a loud, "St. Mungo's!" and was gone.

Dylan regarded Severus coolly. "I'm thinkin' this ain't the time for us to have it out. I'm goin', because that's what friends do. You can do what ya want."

He too was gone in a flash of bright flames. Severus stood there a moment, painfully aware of Pomfrey standing in the doorway behind him. He could imagine the disapproving look on her face without having to turn and see it.

'_That's what friends do.'_

As surely as Severus had never had a lover, or even thought to take a lover before Rowena, he had also never truly had many friends. Even the very few he did have seemed to be only people to whom he had some sort of obligatory tie. Albus, whom he respected but to whom he owed a great debt which could never be repaid. Minerva, a colleague and rival in many ways, but someone with whom he felt some level of 'friendship'. Lucius, who had helped him in his hour of need, but only because it suited his purpose, and who now must be counted as an enemy. Who else? No one.

He could not be her husband. He could not be her lover. Hell, he even botched the job when he tried to be her protector. Maybe, he could try to be her friend.

'_That's what friends do.'_

"St Mungos," he said clearly as he tossed the handful of floo powder into the flames, following in quickly after.

* * *

The entrance floo to the hospital was a small alcove off the main reception desk. Several floo brushes stood on small tables for people to dust off the soot before entering into the 'main' hospital. They were there merely as a courteous formality. Wards at the archway into the reception area did this magically much more efficiently—most people didn't stop to make use of the complimentary brushes. The hospital could hardly have patrons spreading soot all over the building, so the wards did the work in an instant.

Consciously calming his own emotions so as to be a better comfort to hers—if she even wanted or needed his comfort—he straightened his shoulders and made his way into the lobby.

She, Becky, and the cowboy were standing in a corner; the two women looking pale and frightened, clinging to each other. He strode toward them confidently. Rowena didn't look at him, the cowboy only nodded. Becky, however, turned to him with a look of desperation, needing someone who could 'take charge' when she felt so panicky.

"Severus! Do you know what happened?" she asked in very, very hushed tones. "John said not to ask at the desk, he'd meet us here, but I've been waiting for almost ten minutes already."

Because of the nature of the activity of the evening—at last there was at least an acting Minister who allowed the Aurors to do their job properly—it was important not to allow the 'general public' to know those injured were being treated here. Nothing about the raid must leak to the press. Not the least because some of the Death Eaters involved would not hesitate to try and sneak into the hospital and finish the job.

Severus, however, had been treated here several times under similar circumstances in the last war. Unless the layout of the hospital had changed completely, he could guide them most of the way there.

"I know. We must not speak here. Come with me." But instead of leading them imperiously down the hall, struggling to keep up, he took Becky Lupin by the arm—gently—and walked quickly but at a comfortable pace, down a hallway that had been invisible until they stood directly before it. Becky was weeping, trembling, barely able to walk. Behind him, he could hear that Rowena was in a similar state, no doubt leaning heavily on her cowboy for 'support'. The thought rankled, but he allowed it to stab at him with a masochistic relish. It was no less than he deserved. When Becky stumbled, nearly faint from worry, Severus moved his arm around her to help keep her to her feet, and took her hand with his other so that she could lean more heavily upon him. Was not helping her mother one way to offer and demonstrate friendship?

In a very short time, the bustle of doctors and patients diminished so that the long white corridor seemed almost deserted. There weren't even portraits along these walls. How he knew where he was going was anyone's guess, but he guided them unerringly. At some point he decided they were 'deep enough' inside this apparently high-security area, and he began to speak. This, too, was gentle, at least for Severus.

"Remus was transformed last night, as you know. He was part of the raid on the facility being used to attempt to create werewolves. His group went to attack the werewolves; to keep them busy so the other group could rescue and free those intended to be infected.

"He was attacked by three other werewolves. I do not know the extent of the injuries. Only that he lives, and that you were to be brought here immediately."

Silence fell heavily around them, interrupted only by the pained sobs of the mother he was aiding down the corridor, and the sister he could hear behind him. They knew the implications.

Werewolves were in fact very hard to kill or even injure in most circumstances. The body, both the human and lycanthrope form had amazing regenerative capacity. The human form could become weak and sickly because of the increased metabolism and the simple physical stress of the transformations, but it was rarely genuinely ill, and proper nutrition could eliminate many of the inconveniences to the human. In the human form it was possible for a werewolf to become ill enough to die, but it was virtually unheard of. Most wounds healed quickly with a minimal of scarring.

Not that the werewolf did not have weaknesses. Aconite was poison to it, and silver could cause terrible pain and blistering burns that would not regenerate—at all. But the worst, in this case for Remus at least, was that werewolves did not naturally regenerate from wounds inflicted by werewolves—self inflicted or otherwise.

Three werewolves against one—it was very likely that the Lupin women were being summoned to the deathbed to say their good-byes. All of them in the solemn little group knew this, the knowledge weighing heavily about them.

"John!" Becky Lupin had been crying against Severus's side as she walked, her feet moving automatically, trusting him to lead her. She happened to look up and see her husband rushing toward them. He was ashen gray, his eyes blood-shot, all the smile lines of his face now deep and heavy in fatigue and strain. She ran to him and he wrapped his arms around her like a drowning man holding to a life-preserver.

"He's stabilized for now, Becky," he said in a harsh voice. "You can come see him."

The words 'for now' hung heavily in the air.

* * *

The sparse room was so white from floor to ceiling that it was hard to differentiate the corners of the cube where walls met. This was because it was enchanted to be completely 'sterile' for the safely of the patient within. The brightness might have been cheering, if not for the bloody streaks of cloth being collected and scurried into bags by orderlies clearly still cleaning up after the efforts of the healers. Remus Lupin lay still as death on the equally white bed, wrapped in equally white bandages that already had small crimson stains oozing through.

He breathed, but he gave no sign of awareness of his visitors. Severus and Dylan would have waited in the corridor, but John waved them inside as the orderlies left. Dumbledore was also there, as was Tonks, sitting in a white chair near the head of the bed, tears pouring silently down her stunned and glassy-eyed face.

Remus's tawny brown hair was clean and had been brushed, to lie like a shaggy mane against his pillow and framing his ashen face. The bandages started at his throat and then were lost in the collar of his hospital robes. His arms, where they lay atop the coverlet, were also swathed in bandages so that he looked almost like a mummy, except that his strong hands were free and seemed to suffer only minor injuries, his fingernails torn and bloodied.

The thing was, he looked okay. Severely injured, yes, but resting comfortably, breathing easily and seemed in no immediate danger. Rowena could not understand why John and Albus looked so grave and Tonks wept as though he was already dead.

"He's going to recover, isn't he?" she asked in a small, frightened voice. "What happened?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "We don't know if he will recover, Rowena. His injuries have been tended, of course, and he has been given a blood-replenisher. The wounds will have to be treated and healed gradually—they will not heal on their own. He is at grave risk for infection—hence this sterile room, but that is not the worst he faces.

"Peter Pettigrew was at the conflict last night. Remus was still fighting, even with all his injuries, after the Aurors had managed to confine the other werewolves. He went after Peter, lunged for him. Peter reached out his hand… did you know that Voldemort has given him a magical hand? It appears to be made of some manner of silver alloy. The hand penetrated Remus's chest as he lunged—but an Auror stunned Peter from behind so that he was not able to complete his attack.

"Unfortunately, there is very extensive internal damage to his heart and lungs even with the incomplete attack. So far that damage has been resistant to all the healing magic and potions the healers currently know. He is magically sedated, so as not to tax his limited capacity—any exertion now would kill him instantly. Essentially it is a magic-induced coma, one in which he must stay until something can be found to heal those injuries. They can continue to treat him and heal the other injuries while he's in the coma and while they struggle to find something to counteract the silver-burns. But…"

He sighed heavily. John Lupin clutched Becky closer to him and sobbed unashamedly into her hair.

"If the damage is not healed before his next transformation, his heart will not be able to take the stress of the change and… he will die," Dumbledore finished at last, his own words choked with emotion.

"NO!" Rowena sobbed, shaking her head in denial. Only 29 days between full moons, less than 28 days now… to find a rapid cure for severe silver burns to a werewolf. Very little research had been done on helping werewolves heal from injuries in general—most of the wizarding community believed the only good werewolf was a dead werewolf after all. Rowena stared helplessly at the deathly still face of her brother and felt the grief threatening to overwhelm her.

She had contented herself with being angry with him, not speaking to him for years on end, rebuffing his every attempt at reconciliation. But the truth in her heart was she always loved him, always missed him. In spite of her treatment of him, she always knew that he was there. She always knew that if she ever needed him, for anything, all she had to do was call, and he would be there, strong and sure and protecting her as he had done when they were children.

He was always there.

The thought of losing him now, just when she was finally overcoming all of that strife—strife she knew she had caused as much as he, was too horrible. She turned blindly and buried her face against the firm, strong chest of the man standing right behind her and sobbed brokenly. He wrapped her gently in his arms and held her while she wept. He had known to be there, had moved silently up behind her as Albus had spoken, and she had known when she turned in her blind grief that he would be there. Not Dylan, but Severus.

The severed Bond that had left her with the constant nagging pain of emptiness seemed not to be wholly destroyed after all, though it was a mere shadow of its former existence. A painful shadow. Yet THAT pain eased slightly, for her at least, as he comforted her in her fear and this new pain. He must have felt something still as well, because he had known to be there.

He hadn't thought being her 'friend' would leave him feeling so needed and yet so utterly helpless. Her brother lay dying, yet for the moment she needed nothing more from him than a safe place to pour her grief and fear.

Perhaps he could learn to manage the 'friend' role in time.

* * *

Severus was not a man to sit idle when a problem faced him. He had no doubt that John Lupin had every Healer in St. Mungo's working on finding a cure for the silver burns to Remus. However, Severus had access to information that no decent wizard would know. This was not the Dark Lord's first attempt to gain control of werewolves. They were 'dark creatures'. He wanted them to be at His beck and call. In his own darker days, Severus had observed werewolves being chained and tortured in their human and lycanthropic forms. He had even conducted experiments himself.

The memory sickened him.

The knowledge gained, however could perhaps now be put to good use. Another page, perhaps for Albus's white box, if it worked, if he could find a cure.

The weeks that passed were a blur. Voldemort abandoned all pretense of secrecy now that Fudge was gone and his werewolves had been caught. He broke into Azkaban by sheer brute force using the Giants and Dementors, freeing not only his own Death Eaters, but every criminal within to increase general havoc. The fortress itself was diminished to rubble. This was actually some relief to Severus in a twisted way—it was one less reason that the Dark Lord might have to be interested in Rowena. He had not needed to slip through her wards in order to physically attack the prison.

Tiny signs of early spring were showing themselves outdoors, but Severus and the Lupins were oblivious. Severus did not tell any of them what he was working on. He did not want to inspire their hope, feel their disappointment orMerlin forbid!engage their gratitude.

Somehow—and Severus suspected liberal usage of a Time Turner—Rowena continued to teach her classes and also kept a nearly constant vigil at Remus's bedside, in concert with her parents and Tonks.

With Fudge gone, Rowena was free to make use of friends and contacts she had made over the years at the Ministry. Obtaining a Time Turner from a friend in a time of crisis was never a difficult task if one had the right friends.

Severus had a chance to truly observe the Lupin family more than he ever had before. Each grieved, yet each provided comfort to the others while clearly receiving comfort in return. Somehow, even in their combined fear and sadness, they were stronger. To those who have had the benefit of fairly normal life experiences, this should seem obvious. To Severus, who had not, it was a wholly new concept.

Before, he had always assumed "loved ones", even once he allowed himself to think of Rowena and Katrina in that regard, as being something that weakened one. To have people that one cared about that deeply was to become vulnerable. They could be used as tools to manipulate and control. Everything in his life had been about either _BEING_ manipulated or learning to _DO_ the manipulating.

Even after he learned the lesson that the _feeling_ of that very powerful emotion (that he could not force himself to name, even to himself) was not a weak thing, he couldn't quite rid himself of the idea that it could _cause_ weakness. Because he always kept his own emotions so tightly controlled, hidden and protected, he believed them to be a finite thing. One has a certain amount of any given emotion from which to draw, and when it is gone, it is gone. "Losing" or "giving away" of emotions, especially of the gentler variety that already caused vulnerability surely then must cause weakness.

What he witnessed as he observed the Lupin family coping with their impending tragedy was in direct contradiction to everything he believed. The phenomenon was not confined to the Lupins. They reached out to Tonks at once, as though she were already a part of that strange pool of strength that they seemed to alternately pour into and draw from according to their own ability and need at the time. Tonks blended into this seamlessly, gratefully, and her addition did not seem to weaken it, but add still more strength.

They even made overtures to reach out to Severus, as though he, too, might be needing comfort! Becky Lupin was beyond kind to him when he came to visit. He came occasionally to retrieve skin and blood samples that he needed from Remus (obtained by surreptitiously magically raiding the trash of the recently changed bandages). Yet Becky Lupin never failed to inquire after his health, offer him tea or any variety of consumable confections which their friends from the Order had sent, and even chat briefly about Katrina.

It was extraordinary. It was incomprehensible.

* * *

Rowena had asked for—and been granted—the week before the full moon off. Molly tended to Katrina, and though the child asked after 'Uncle Remus', Rowena had only allowed her to visit a few times very briefly. She wanted Katrina to remember him as healthy and strong, not weak and sick, wrapped in bandages. All of the wounds had healed except for the great, gaping hole just left of center in his chest. Pettigrew's aim could not have been better. The wound stayed anatomically in the same place even after the transformation, even allowing for the difference of shape and positioning.

It was a great oozing, bleeding sore. A magical barrier had been applied over this gaping maw, both to keep out infection and to maintain the vacuum necessary for the diaphragm to do its work, so that the lungs could continue to rise and fall. The barrier was thin and transparent, so that the heart could clearly be seen beating through it, lungs visible as they filled and emptied. Bandages were unhelpful and unnecessary because of the magical barrier, but it was kept covered anyway just because it was so horrible to see.

Severus Snape did not have 'friends' in the Ministry, but he did not need them to obtain a Time Turner. 'Acquaintances' in Knockturn Alley could serve as well. He was no less fatigued than any of the others who had tried valiantly to meet their needed duties and still attend Remus. He merely concealed his activities and fatigue better than most. He had had years of practice at it, after all.

Remus. When had 'Lupin' become Remus even in his own thoughts?

Two days before the full moon, he strode briskly down the white passages of the hospital, tension clenching his gut even as he maintained his impassive mask. There was no time to test it properly beforehand, and no time to repair errors if his memory had failed him or his judgement been incorrect. There was one chance and one chance only.

They were all there when he arrived. The Lupins and Tonks, all looking gaunt and wan, clearly spreading themselves too thin and yet still that strange aura of giving and receiving comfort.

He addressed himself to the father.

"Mr. Lupin, a word, please," he said very formally. John looked up from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed holding Remus's hand. He stood silently and followed Severus into the hall.

"John, please, Severus. I haven't the strength for the formalities just now," he said with a gentle smile that was sad and yet still very reminiscent of his son's. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe I may have a solution to the Silver Poisoning," he said without preamble. He held up his hand at the nearly astonished look of hope and joy that instantly brightened the older man's face. "I do not wish to excite your anticipation. I have had no time to test it. It will either work, or it will hasten his demise, there is no in-between and no second chance. I can offer you no guarantees, only suppositions."

John nodded, yet hope was written in every line of his face. "I understand. What must we do? How was this accomplished? Do it now—we've got so little time left already!"

"Mr. Lupin… John… Do you have a Potions Master here that you trust? It might be best if I were not the one to administer this. Your son and I have never been… on the best of terms. Your daughter and I… have parted ways. Miss Tonks… is not particularly comfortable with me on the best of days. I think perhaps that I ought not to be involved. I can only offer you my word, for what it is worth, that I have done what I can. If it does not work, I am prepared to face any charges you might wish to level."

"Severus! Don't be ridiculous! So you've had your differences with the kids. That has nothing to do with this now… this is life and death. I'm sure you've done the best you can. Surely you know what should be done better than trying to hastily teach someone else? Please. Come and tell me what we need to do."

Briefly Severus thought to refuse, and even had a moment to wish he had sent it anonymously so that he could receive neither credit nor blame for the outcome—but he knew it would not have been considered at all if he had done that. It was perhaps a vain thought, but he knew without doubt that live or die, the solutions he held in his pocket were Remus's only hope. Besides, he did not trust anyone but himself to take responsibility for the application of the potions, in spite of his suggestion just now that someone else do it.

He nodded, and followed John back inside. He stopped and sealed the door against any other person's entrance while John told 'the girls' what Severus intended to do. Severus then approached the bed. Tonks was looking at him warily, but Rebecca and Rowena's faces were so alight with hope and even faith in him that he could hardly bear it. If he failed… the thought was too painful to contemplate, yet a very real possibility.

"I had to seal the door. If it is learned that I was the one to find the cure for this…" He stopped. Tonks was an Auror, and the others were in the Order. They all knew enough of his role to know how much danger he would be in if Voldemort learned that Severus had been the one to save the man Peter had tried so hard to kill!

"If this works, I would appreciate it very much that the results not go beyond this room. If it fails, he will be gone quickly. I have no way to be certain of the effects. There was no time to test it properly."

"Severus… it's okay. Just… do it."

The soft plea came from Rowena, all the more painful to see her still shining faith in him after all that had passed between them. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded. Tonks had a death grip upon her chair.

"John. We will need to work together," Severus said, suddenly business-like, as though instructing a particularly gifted student in the process of a fiendishly difficult potion. "The first solution will consume the silver residue within the wound causing it to evaporate and also a sort of cauterization—there will be a great deal of smoke and steam—the odor will not be pleasant. The second solution must follow immediately upon the heels of the first, recreating a natural membrane to seal the thoracic cavity so he can continue to breathe. I will need to apply these myself—using the sealing solution before the silver is completely dissolved would be disastrous—all the silver must leave his system.

"I need you to slowly peel back the magical, artificial membrane currently keeping him alive—but we have to work in close succession so that we maintain the seal."

"I can slow his heart rate and breathing as well," John said, nodding his understanding, "It will give us a little more time to work and not make the thoracic seal quite so emergent."

"Excellent."

Severus then withdrew two phials from his robes, each with a very small, precision pour-spout. John positioned himself with his wand at the ready on the left side of Remus's bed, Severus on the right. John did the spell that slowed his breathing even further and nodded his readiness.

"Very well. Begin."

* * *

The solution did indeed smoke and steam, sizzle and hiss, great plumes of billowing blue-gray smoke pouring into the room. The odor was sickening-sweet like sugar burning on a stove and burning flesh. Rowena went to the foot of the bed and waved her wand with a ventilation charm she had often used in the research lab to remove noxious fumes.

Time seemed to be very erratic, first at a complete standstill then moving in slow, jerky leaps. For a long time the women observing could hardly tell the men had moved, slowly starting at one edge of the wound and working gradually, carefully, slowly across. Surely the potions would run out long before the wound was fully treated? Apparently, though, like many things in the wizarding world, the outer size of the container did not accurately portray the volume contained within.

It was nearly an hour to completion, but at last the old barrier had been peeled away and John discarded it in the trash. All eyes in the room remained upon Remus. The last of the smoke was sucked away and Rowena canceled the ventilation charm.

Remus breathed.

"How will we know if it worked?" asked Tonks, weakly.

"He will begin to regenerate naturally—naturally for a lycanthrope, that is, as though it were a normal wound," said Severus, his voice tight and strained. "Or he will die. Soon."

Tonks and the Lupins moved closer to the bed, John clearly trying to decide if the wound needed bandaging now that the original barrier had been removed. He settled for laying sterile gauze over it lightly, but did not tape it down so he could periodically check beneath it.

The waiting seemed interminable. Every moment that he breathed was another moment of hope. He certainly did not seem to be visibly weakening.

After nearly another hour, John stood up to peer under the bandage he had laid over the wound. The dressing was truly unnecessary, but it was almost as though none of them wanted to stand there and watch to see if the wound would begin to close, as though they might 'jinx' the result. Every breath was held and all eyes were upon him as John stood. His eyes widened as he lifted the bandage, and his face paled.

Becky gasped a sob and buried her face in her hands. Tonks clenched her fists in her lap. Rowena couldn't stand it and had to see for herself, tears streaming silently down her face.

Her huge brown eyes instantly flew to Severus's—of all of them he alone had betrayed no outward reaction to John's LACK of definitive reaction—Rowena's tears flowed more quickly and he felt the stab of disappointment for his failure.

Until she spoke.

"It's healing. The wound is closing!" she managed to gasp between tears of relief and laughter.

Everyone, even Severus, bounded to their feet to see for themselves. It was true. It was still an enormous wound. It would take days to heal fully even with his enhanced regenerative capability. But already the sinew and muscle and bone had closed enough over the crater that the heart was no longer clearly visible. John began a series of diagnostic charms with small sounds of joyous relief at the completion of each one.

"It's all healing. Everything. His lungs, his heart. We should keep him sedated through his transformation so he doesn't tax himself. Sweet Circe, he's going to be okay!"

There was a great deal of hugging, laughing and crying between the women. John slid back into the chair nearest the bed and seemed to go limp with exhausted relief. Severus allowed himself a very, very slight smile to himself in satisfaction of the success, and silently moved to the door to leave. Rowena's hand on his arm stopped him, and before he knew what she was doing, she had stood on tip-toe and thrown her arms about his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, Severus! Thank you so much!" she breathed against his cheek.

It was the sweetest torment he had ever endured. His body remembered every touch, the feel of her contours against him. His arms wound about her of their own accord, his head leaned against hers, unconsciously breathing in the scent of her hair. The ache in his chest that he had caused when he ruptured their bond actually eased somewhat, though it served to remind him painfully of all that had occurred between them. He could not bear the bittersweet remembrance very long.

He released her quickly and stepped away, trying not to show his discomposure. She was beaming at him, radiantly, even through her tears.

He could have refused her thanks. At another time, he might have done so without thought. He knew a million excuses that he used whenever anyone tried to express gratitude to him. 'Just doing my part to help the Order' or 'Acting under Albus's orders,' or even something snarky like, "I didn't wish to waste the opportunity to conduct an experiment on a werewolf again…"

Somehow, he didn't think that a 'friend' would try and diminish what had occurred here with those sorts of rebuttals. Instead he gave her a slight nod.

"You're welcome."

In a swish of black robes, he was gone. The memory of her radiant smile followed him all the way back to his dungeons.

Somehow it seemed that coming to terms with the concept of 'friendship' was not going to be any easier than his utterly botched attempts to understand "lover" or "spouse". It was not a comforting thought, but he was determined not to fail in _this._

If he was truly so emotionally 'broken' that he could not even manage a normal, human friendship, then for him at least, Voldemort had already won, regardless of the outcome of the war.


	34. Chapter 34: New Beginnings

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 34: New Beginnings

* * *

It was several days before Rowena returned to the castle, but reports of Remus' rapid recovery reached the Headmaster on a regular basis, and he passed those on to the Order Members. The problem now was, of course, that when Voldemort found out that Remus had not died, Severus would once again be suspect.

Severus brushed aside this concern as nothing. Albus decided the boy had suffered his additional punishments long enough and stopped making him oversee the Gryffindor Detentions, which was a blessed relief. With the Weasley Twins gone from school it was true there weren't so many as there once had been, but still enough to be troublesome.

The most pressing issue facing him at this point was to decide what to do with his most recent 'epiphany'. He wanted to find himself capable of friendship. He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't truly a broken man. How to go about it?

At first, he wanted to seek HER friendship, to attempt to truly earn the gift that he tossed aside when it was freely given. It did not take him long to see the folly in that idea. He had divorced her and severed their bond because association with him was a danger to her. That reality was unchanged. It would be a cruelty now for both of them if he were to try and build a friendship on the crumbled remains of their brief courtship and marriage and once again place her in danger, making the sacrifice pointless.

Besides, now that he no longer had it, he realized how precious a thing her friendship and affection was. He wanted to start small, choose a 'target' that was not so meaningful so that if he failed, the consequences would not be severe.

* * *

"Severus! What on earth are you doing here? Is something wrong? Is it Rowena?"

Remus started in surprise. He was sitting in a chair before the fire, wrapped in a thick blanket and reading. He had been so close to the fire for warmth that Snape had almost tumbled onto his lap when he stepped out of the floo. It was a Friday night, and term was in session. Remus could imagine no reason why the Potions Professor would be entering 12 Grimmauld Place just now unless there was an Order Emergency of some sort.

"Nothing is wrong, Lupin. I wished to get out of the castle for a time without being subject to the spying eyes of the Dark Lord. You have objections to my presence here?" he asked haughtily, raking the werewolf's appearance with his piercing gaze.

"No, no. Not at all. I'm just surprised to see you. Would you like some tea?" He made as though to disentangle himself from the blanket to rise from the chair when Snape raised a long-fingered hand to stay him.

"You are barely a week out of the hospital; I did not come here to treat you as a house elf. If I desire tea, I will get it myself. Are you well?"

Remus looked gob smacked. Was Snape actually inquiring after his _health?_ He felt that seeing as how Snape had saved his life, it would be churlish not to answer, no matter what their arguments had been in the past. "I'm great, Severus, honestly. My chest still hurts a little if I sneeze unexpectedly, but even that gets better every day. The transformation was the worst I've ever had, but I lived through it, which is more than I'd have done without your help. Thank you."

Now it was Severus's turn to regard the other man in surprise, though he conveyed the emotion only in a slight lift of the brow. He took great pride in his skill at Potions, but due to his duplicitous life he rarely was acknowledged for his accomplishments. He was still, first and foremost, the consummate Slytherin. Try as he might to suppress it, he still longed for the recognition and accolades that must be denied to him. That Remus would thank him was not surprising. The annoyingly calm werewolf always thanked him for the Wolfsbane potion every dose, every month. What was different now was that he recognized Lupin's sincerity in the gratitude.

Again it required great restraint, but instead of saying something suitably cutting… _"We have no time for the Headmaster to be grieving the loss of his remaining pet canine…"_ he merely nodded slightly. "You're welcome. Chess?"

"What!"

"I inquired as to whether you would like to engage in an intellectually stimulating diversionary activity. I do not believe I have suddenly begun speaking in tongues," he answered with a touch of asperity. Was Lupin deliberately trying to make his first attempts at 'friendship' as difficult as possible?

"Severus… I'm not going to attack you… but I am reaching for my wand," Remus said in the calm, soothing voice one might direct toward a madman from whom one was trying to escape. One hand held up in front of him in a placating gesture, the other moving slowly and carefully for the wand in his breast pocket.

"Lupin, don't be ridiculous. What ails you? Have you gone mad? You've only been in solitary confinement in this miserable excuse for habitation for a week. Black was far less rational than you to begin with, and he managed to cling to some vestige of sanity for months."

Old habits die hard, and Snape's own wand was in his hand in a lightning fast movement of his wrist, though he did not bring it to bear on the werewolf. "I will not allow you to hex me, no matter how justified the action might be."

Remus eyed Snape's wand carefully, but his own was now in his hand, and this he DID aim squarely at Snape's chest, though the look on his face was rather apologetic. He was in no way certain which of them would come out the winner if they were to actually duel, but he was fairly certain that his sister would murder the survivor, making the point moot.

"I want you to either allow me to cast a 'Finite Incantatem' at you, or leave this house at once. I do not wish to fight with you, but…"

"But you believe me to be under the influence of an Imperious? Don't be an idiot, Lupin! Do you think I could have maintained my teaching position this long if I couldn't ignore that particular curse? Suit yourself—but if any other incantation passes your lips, you will not get a second chance at another, do I make myself clear?"

Remus almost DIDN'T cast the Finite, simply because he figured if Snape agreed to it, then he must not really be under the Imperious. But then, in circular reasoning, he figured that Snape would know him to be a trusting sort, and a controlled Snape might think that agreeing to the counter-spell might fool Remus into not casting it.

He cast it.

Snape did not move, or flinch, or so much as blink, but Remus could SENSE the rigidity of the other man's every muscle. He could only vaguely imagine what it must have cost Snape—who was truly more paranoid and cautious than even Moody—to stand still and submit to such a thing.

"I'm sorry. It was rude of me to think such a thing when all you were doing was… was…" he couldn't finish his sentence. He wasn't exactly sure WHAT Snape was doing here, even still.

"Was trying to be amicable? Yes, well. Considering my carefully honed reputation, you may be forgiven, Lupin. I am not known for my gestures of philanthropy. If we are through with the greeting rituals? Perhaps a game of chess?"

Remus nodded and waved his wand to summon and set up his rather battered old chess set on the low table near his chair. Snape pulled over another old and dusty armchair and seated himself. Remus held one pawn of each color in his closed fists and held them out to Snape, who indicated the left hand with a nod of his head—white. Snape would move first.

Why was he not surprised?

"I don't think I really understand why you're here? What do you want, Snape? If you want information about my sister, I haven't seen her since I got out of the hospital. Dumbledore thinks it's best for as few people as possible to see me."

"This has nothing to do with your sister," Snape said too quickly.

"I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself. Your move."

They played in silence for a long time. They were well-matched in skill and Remus enjoyed the diversion. He had become quite depressed the last few days, even with Tonks visiting frequently. The house was morose at best. He felt more sorry than ever that Sirius spent his last months free of Azkaban yet imprisoned in here. Memories of the too-brief time he had shared here with his deceased friend haunted him, making him melancholy most of the time.

When Severus and Remus did speak, they began with mundane things such as Albus's obsession with sweets and Remus's own obsession with chocolate. Slowly, the conversation worked its way to more serious matters, such as Harry's obvious determination to isolate himself from as much of humanity as possible.

"It is completely aberrant," Snape said. "Boys his age ought to have friends. He ought to be an annoying miscreant. Kissing girls and skiving off classes. I would consider it a great boon if he would skive off one of my classes. I would have dual enjoyment. First, of the class without him in it, and then again when I had the very great pleasure of assigning him a detention.

"He has not been in detention all term. Aberrant, I say."

Remus leaned back from the chessboard. He was going to lose, and now that he realized that, he was in no hurry to do it. "Why does it matter to you, Snape? You loathe him."

"I despise the special treatment he is given by every individual in the magical world. Only the fact that he is somewhat downtrodden in his Muggle home has prevented total arrogance. However, the purpose of all of this—the Muggle relations, the special treatment, my own efforts to counter-balance the adulation of all of the rest of the wizarding world single-handedly—will all come to naught if the eejit kills himself. Depressed adolescents are not known for their rational decisions. I do not believe him suicidal at present—but it is a risk.

"He barely drew out of his own misery long enough to comfort Granger at the death of her father and illness of her mother. Total disregard for a friend's distress in the face of one's own is a Slytherin trait, not a Gryffindor one."

"It's a human trait, Severus," Remus corrected softly, regarding the other man thoughtfully. "Some hurts run too deep to be easily overcome. Why does it bother you? What is this really about? I remember you in school—you never worry at a problem like this unless there is an underlying reason. What are you studying now? Adolescent grieving processes? I dare say you'll get more opportunities for research than you'd like before this is all over."

"Friendship, if you must know," said Severus, seizing on the 'excuse' to discuss what he really was 'researching'. "Apparently my own definition of the term is… _distorted._ I suppose considering my past that is to be expected. It seems to me to be a precarious endeavor, "friendship". Granger has stood by Potter for all these years, even when he turned against her years ago over that bloody broomstick. When her parents were attacked, he seemed to sink further into himself—yet he did manage to try and comfort her. That was the only non-selfish thing he managed at that time, mind. It struck me as curious, and so I've been… studying."

Remus flopped back in his chair and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. His health really was much better, but he still ached terribly if he became the slightest bit chilled.

"You want me to explain the mysteries of friendship to you? You've lived 37 years without understanding something so basic?"

"I do not need to be reminded of my own character deficits, Lupin," Severus said dangerously. "I assure you I know them all intimately."

"I wasn't trying to be insulting, Severus. I'm sorry. I just… don't know where to begin. You've met my family. Even when Rowena and I were badly at odds, we loved each other. My parents loved and protected me. They sheltered me in spite of what I am. No matter how miserable or sad or lonely my life has become, I've always had that foundation to fall back on. I know that I am loved, no matter what, just as I am.

"My friends, well, they're just an extension of that foundation. I mean, I've been hurt by friends, sure. I was so angry at Sirius when he sent you to the Shack that night—when he betrayed my secret and almost turned me into a murderer, that it tainted the flavor of our friendship for the rest of our lives. But the friendship was still there. Friends understand that we are all "only human". We'll make mistakes—sometimes really big ones—but that doesn't mean we aren't friends."

Both men stared at the fire in silence for long minutes. Remus could tell by the furrow in Snape's brow that he had not adequately explained anything.

"It is bad form to use a word which one is attempting to define within the body of its own definition," Snape said at last. "In defining friendship, you describe how 'friends' behave, without defining the term. Malfoy pays people for the sort of loyalty and 'forgiveness' you describe. I see nothing elevating or virtuous in that."

"Severus… maybe Albus would be a better person to talk to? I can't define it from your perspective because I've never been _without_. Friendship is just another form of love. Platonic love, but no less deep or abiding than a person might have for their spouse or family members.

"Have you ever in your life had anyone who loved you, no matter what, just as you are? Besides my sister, that is. She doesn't count, because you already stopped believing in love or friendship long before you got together. That's why you broke off with her, isn't it? Because you don't know how to love her—or accept her love for you."

Snape leaned forward, moved a piece on the board, "Check mate," he said through tightly clenched teeth. Lupin's words had given him much to think about, but had also come much too close to home. He suddenly felt very exposed, vulnerable. He did not like the sensation, especially with someone who was normally merely an 'ally' at best, and often an adversary.

He stood in a fluid swish of his black robes. "I broke off with your sister for reasons of my own which are none of your business. I have been here long enough. Good evening."

"Severus, wait," Remus stood and ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words to explain what ought not to have needed explanation. "Look, I didn't mean to pry. Thanks for the game of chess. If you want to find your answers, try and think about what I said. Try and remember what it felt like to be loved for no reason at all. Not because you deserved it, or because you earned it, or because you commanded it, or any other reason at all. Loved, just because. If you can recapture that feeling, the concepts of friendship should come more easily to you.

"From what I've seen in the years I've known you, you've always done things for external motivators. Factors like other people's expectations, or as a means to an end, to pay back a debt or to put someone in debt to you. Love—real love—can't be manipulated in the giving or receiving like that. It just is. Friendship, because it's a manifestation of love, is the same way."

"Understood. I will research."

"You do that," Remus grinned. "And if you get bored, I'm always here. I guess it's my turn to be under house arrest for a while. I'll let you beat me at chess again."

Snape scoffed, knowing full well that Lupin had not 'let' him win. The man's game had grown weak. He gave one very small nod of his head and stepped into the floo in a flash of green flames.

* * *

He paced his quarters long into the night. What had Rowena said not so long ago, that she was afraid that they were "losing" Potter? Because Potter was sinking into despair not unlike that which Severus himself had done all those years ago.

He had a better foundation than Potter had, because he had had a mother who had loved him, she had insisted. Severus had brushed off the words at the time. Thoughts of his mother were tainted by violent, consuming rage, even now, all these years later. Rage at her for never removing them from the untenable situation. Rage at his father for killing her. Rage at himself for being unable to prevent it. Rage at the foolish desire for vengeance that drove him to the Dark Lord all those years ago.

Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage.

He stopped short in his pacing, and forced himself again to prod the feelings surrounding his mother. He could find every flavor of anger there in those feelings. White hot anger. Icy cold anger. Feral rage that was almost bloodlust. Ire. Indignation. Fury. Delve as he might he found only the broad spectrum of anger, all of it painful. Yet even the pain was comforting, like a lumpy old mattress upon which one has slept for years; physically uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons, yet comforting in its familiarity.

Better the enemy one knows… 

It took several days of this very focused self-examination before he finally realized what he should have known all along. His anger had always been a defense mechanism. He had learned to control his anger as a very, very small child. His father's beatings were much worse if Severus tried in any way to fight back or defend himself or his mother. Anger could be controlled. Anger could be used.

He was using his own anger to prevent himself having to look more deeply at any other emotions. Astonishingly, he now recognized how odd it was that he never once grieved "normally" after her death. For years, particularly right after the first war, Albus had made him play the role of 'counselor' to his Slytherins, the ones who had lost family in the war. He had stacks of books on the "normal stages of grief" and had done a passing job at helping "his" Slytherins through those stages when necessary.

Now he realized that Albus's intent had been to try and help Severus along the same vein. For Twenty-one years, Severus Snape had been 'stuck' on 'anger'.

His first thought was amusement. _How very mundane, Snape. You are emotionally broken because you have not overcome a childhood trauma. Bravo. You win the prize for the most pathetic and obtuse. Even Potter is unlikely to top that one—then again; he is unlikely to see the age of 37, so that is no compliment to him._

When he ceased to be amused by self-flagellation, he dug through old books and read.

* * *

The ten-day Easter Holiday would start in a few days. It had taken him quite some time to come to a conclusion at last, but now that he had, it was time for action. He had been to only two Death Eater meetings in all of February and March.

Finding the targets becoming more protected and the attacks more resisted, the Dark Lord had gone abroad for a brief time in pursuit of recruitment. Or, at least, that was what Severus was given to believe. It seemed to be at least partially true, as Draco was sulking that his parents were in France and not expected back any time soon, so he had to stay at Hogwarts for the Holiday. Even the rat had not been detected lurking about.

Severus didn't like it—it surely meant that there were major plans in progress—plans from which he would be excluded as still not wholly trusted. But for a time, at least, they could breathe a little easier for a small reprieve.

The corridors were dark and empty when he yet again found himself knocking at the door to her quarters. She answered quickly with a polite look of inquiry. There was still an air of frailty about her that was new since the severing of their bond, but her color had improved, and there was the determined fire in her eyes that heartened him. She would recover then, and he could cease to worry about her health. She was better off this way at any rate.

"Did you need something, Professor?" she asked with cool politeness when he made no effort to move or speak.

The question was followed by a critical look as she seemed to be appraising him. He didn't know whether she was concerned for his health or at last realizing what an ugly git he really was. It was not a comfortable feeling to stand there under _her_ piercing gaze, though he did not translate this into any empathy for his students in a similar situation.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked finally, when he seemed at a loss for words. Her tone suggested complete ambivalence to his answer.

Of course he would refuse the invitation. The whole point of the horrible ordeal of the severing of the bond was to distance her from himself for her own safety. That could hardly be accomplished if he accepted invitations into her quarters at odd hours of the evening.

"Tea then? Or Brandy?" she asked as she stepped to her kitchenette after shutting the door behind him. When had he actually moved to step inside? What in Merlin's name was he thinking?

A short while ago these had been 'their' quarters, for a very brief time, yet now he felt a stranger within them. How had he managed to make such a bloody mess of everything? Everything, where she was concerned, became more difficult and confusing, rather than less.

When he sat in 'his' familiar chair, his body at least seemed to feel at 'home', even if he could not reconcile his heart or mind to the concept. He waved his wand at her fire to increase the heat and flames—she was too thin and pale, he did not wish her to become chilled. He shook his head and waved away the invitation absently, trying to clarify his own thoughts. It did not help that she was regarding him rather quizzically, when he did not know why he was here himself.

She tucked her feet under herself as she sat on the sofa, a teacup in her hands, and looked at him silently. The changes were marked. She used to strive to make conversation with him. Or to make it easy for him not to participate in trivialities if he did not wish it. She accepted his silences as she accepted everything else about him, and made it easy to feel… what? Loved? Understood? He had felt comfortable at the very least. It was a feeling he had not recognized at the time, but now that it was gone he greatly missed it.

Clearly she intended to present to him 'neutral ground'. Whether she still loved him after all that had occurred or not, she was not going to reveal either way. He silently applauded the strengthening of her Occlumency enough that she was indeed a mystery. Whatever was to exist between them now, be it polite acquaintance of colleagues or genuine friendship, she was leaving the decision and control entirely up to him. Moreover, she did not seem disposed to make any effort to make things easier for him, in any sense.

Just when he had determined that he _wanted_ to maintain a friendship with her, that very thing was suddenly so much harder to attain.

Rowena, for her part, watched him over the rim of her cup, torn with indecision. The sight of him standing in her doorway had set her heart to racing, as it always had. Every beat was painful, the reminder of the broken Bond and his total rejection of her, for whatever reason. That part of her that shared Remus's 'Gryffindor' spirit was all that was keeping her going at this point. She had become so numb of late; it was difficult for her to define any feelings, or to feel anything with any strength.

If he wanted her, in any role in his life, HE was going to have to fight for it.

"I am going home during the Easter Holiday. I will not be spending Saturday with Katrina—she already knows," he said at last into the silence that felt like a leaden blanket.

"Home?" This at least had drawn surprise from her. He had lived at Hogwarts ever since he left his father's house at the age of 11—or with the Malfoys. This was his 'home'.

"I wish to visit my mother's grave."

Her eyes widened further as her surprise deepened. They _never_ spoke of his parents after the night when he showed her the image of his father, except the one time she mentioned his mother to him in regards to trying to help Harry Potter—which had made him very angry. She had always felt that there was some very deep 'unfinished business' there, but didn't know how to help him face it.

"Severus," she said with a shake of her head. That distant part of her that seemed to belong to a former life wanted to cry out in compassion for him; wanted to offer to go with him, to support him in this journey. The person that she had become, however, found it to be too much effort to consider. She did manage to give him her opinion on the matter; the self that had loved him once would not be wholly silenced. "I don't think you should make that sort of trip alone. It's likely to be very emotional. You ought to take someone with you."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. Surely she knew him well enough to know he would not want anyone to see him in his 'weakness'? "No. I thank you for your concern, but I wish to do this alone."

Now it was her turn to quirk a brow in return. "Then why are you telling me? I don't see that it's any concern of mine." Her tone cooled as she felt afresh the force of his rejection. Pain, then, in all its variations, seemed to be the one thing she could still _feel_.

"So that you would know why I was gone," he said, looking at her quizzically. "I did not wish you to…"

"To worry?" she interrupted; a snap to her voice as her own long-suppressed anger began to surface. "You made it clear I don't have any right to worry over you anymore."

"That does not necessarily mean the behavior will stop. I am trying, Rowena, to not cause you further distress." His tone became more gentle, almost placating, as hers became more acidic, dripping with sarcasm.

"Further distress? Oh, don't worry, _Professor_. I can imagine nothing you could do that would cause me _further_ distress. Thanks so _much_ for your concern. I don't need it. I don't understand why you even care what I think NOW, after everything you've done."

He flinched at this, and stood. His rigidly straight posture belied the control he was trying to exert over his own emotions.

"I have no right to ask you to believe me, Rowena. I can only say that I did what I thought was for the best. I ought never to have married…"

"If you think you are going to improve things by telling me you regret having been married to me, you can stop now. It will not make anything _better_."

His fists clenched at his sides. When he turned to look at her, his face was as anguished as she had ever seen, his inner turmoil painted across the normally stoic visage. His voice was harsh and ragged. "Rowena… it was selfish. Impulsive. I had no thought for your safety… or perhaps thought I could keep you safe regardless. I failed. Do you have any idea what it did to me to torture you before the Dark Lord?"

If he had thought to placate her by baring his own pain in the matter, he was wrong.

"Do you have any idea what it did to me to go through that? I knew what to expect, you warned me, I was prepared to do whatever it took to 'prove' whatever point it was we had to prove. I was prepared to 'pass' the 'test'. How do you suppose it felt to go through all that and still have you reject me?

"And now—all these weeks, you act so normally. You come to meals, "Good morning Lupin". You bring the student papers, "Good Evening, Lupin." You inquire after Katrina. Always cool and polite as you please. Normal. Like nothing ever happened. Like we've never been anything more or less than colleagues. You saved Remus's life with that potion; you were so nice to my family… I thought you wanted to try and work things out. Clearly I was wrong.

"You, my dear ex-husband, 'pulled a Remus'. You pushed me away to assuage your own fear and guilt without any care or regard to my feelings. Fine. _Please_ stop trying to do me any favors now. You made it clear you don't want anything to do with me. If you want to do something for me, you could start by just leaving me alone.

"Have a lovely holiday."

In silence, he stared at her as she vented her spleen at him, each word like salt in a wound which he, himself, had inflicted. He took it all, listened to every word as some small penance for all that he had done to her, to them. He would not attempt to dissuade her from her belief that he didn't 'want' her, though nothing was further from the truth.

He could not undo what he had done. He could only move forward and try and learn from his mistakes. He did not 'hope' for some better future. Hope was too painful. Maybe his mother's grave would hold some answers to the twisted, tortuous life he had lived… and how to stop making such enormous mistakes.

He bowed. "Accepted. I will endeavor not to disturb you further. Good evening, Lupin".

She did not see him again before he left the castle for his trip.

* * *

A/N: Oh, poor Severus! My delightful Beta, Elaine, already has the next two chapters in hand. As you might imagine, the homecoming bit is going to be intense. As always, reviews are like chocolate--you can never have enough. 


	35. Chapter 35: Homecoming

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine! Please note that for this chapter, JL, aka Kirasha, also Beta'd. WARNING: this is a very emotionally intense chapter. Elaine says it has a very high "emotional squick" content. It is the emotional intensity that made it hard for me to go through it again—I've had it back from both betas for 2 weeks now, and only just finished addressing their suggestions. The delay is my fault, not theirs.

Also, thank you to Ashley who reminded me of the fitting quote you will find in the chapter, and giving me permission to use it here.

* * *

Chapter 35: Homecoming

* * *

He dismounted the thestral in a twilight-dark patch of woods in a small valley near the ruins. The ghosts of the place threatened to consume him. Already his stomach clenched painfully as he made his way slowly up the neglected path to the ruined homestead, the thestral following obediently behind. It was worse even than the uncomfortable fear that sent his guts into knots when the Dark Lord summoned him. A summons contained promise of Daemons, yes, but they were others' Daemons, to be witnessed and observed with cool, impartial disdain. Here, he would face his own.

"Ruins" was perhaps too romantic of a word, inspiring thoughts of old castles slowly crumbling with decay. The landscape here spoke of rape. The remains of the building, castle, homestead, whatever it was that had stood on this hill, lay in violent disarray. The highest remaining bit of standing wall was no more than chest-height. Twenty years of rain and weather had not faded the black scorch marks on the crumbled stones scattered dozens of meters in every direction. The original foundation even seemed to be sinking in upon itself, one section swallowed up completely into a deep, black pit that spoke of a labyrinth of cellars beneath the structure.

The tall black-clad figure paced around the rubble, occasionally kicking absently at a bit of debris. Severus Snape allowed himself to wallow in the powerful rage that had driven him to do this all those years ago. The bloodlust and sweet taste of vengeance welled up within him as fresh as though it had been yesterday. He could hear Lucius and Wilkes and the Lestrange brothers as they laughed and cast their hexes, helping him destroy the building that had once stood three stories tall. He could hear the exploding stones and smell the stench of burning pitch and wood and fabric and even the flesh of his father's tortured body. His heart thrummed with the remembered adrenaline, the rush of power and _freedom_ he had felt all those years ago as he did this…

_HE DID THIS._

The wild surge of power swung violently to something like pain and shame. He had _gloried_ in murder. His first murder—and he had _reveled_ in it! His first of many, too numerous now to count… and yet this one, of all that he had done, for this one he could find no remorse within himself, even though this was the one that had irrevocably changed his life forever. This was the one that brought him to his Master's Inner Circle. He had thought it bought him freedom. In truth, it had only brought him to a deeper, darker slavery.

He spent the first day picking through the rubble of the house, allowing himself—even _FORCING_ himself, to relive every emotion he had felt all those years ago as he wreaked the destruction surrounding him. By the time the setting sun began casting long pastel streaks in the sky and shadows over the ground, Severus Snape felt certain that he was as vile, as repugnant, evil, and unlovable as anything ever spawned from the very depths of Hell itself.

His dreams, when he retired into a borrowed wizard's tent, were troubled and violent.

* * *

Sunrise through the canvas roof above him woke him gradually. The tent was complete with kitchen and bath, so that he showered for a long, long time before dressing, as though to somehow wash the emotional filth of the previous day away.

The ache that was the severed Bond throbbed painfully within his chest. He had never felt more alone, more genuinely frightened than he did at this moment. He had always been "alone" since he left for Hogwarts. He had often been terrified. Anyone who said that they faced the Dark Lord, ever, without abject terror hiding somewhere within their soul, was a liar.

Today, he faced himself. Today he tried to learn if he ever truly had been worthy of anything besides being the tool he had become. It seemed to him that a summons by the Dark Lord would be mild in comparison.

Exiting the tent, he approached the only solid structure still standing on the property. An old barn stood on a small rise, shimmering slightly in the morning light. It was weather-beaten, the paint peeling in great scaly chunks as though an ancient creature was shedding bits of its hide. It stood tall and strong even after age and elements had robbed it of anything like aesthetic beauty. The ancient magic that had been used to conceal it caused the shimmer.

The barn door still creaked ominously. It had been a mystery to him, how his father had never followed him in here when he'd come here to hide. He had thought that perhaps his father did not wish to soil himself within the confines where animals were housed. Whatever the reason, it had always been a refuge. He still felt the same sense of safety now as he had felt the first time that he wrenched the door open to hide his pain.

One portion of the barn had been left a 'working' barn… stalls, hay, equipment for caring for various livestock, though they had owned none except one horse for a brief time, and the occasional injured animal nursed to health then released.

The other portion of the barn was almost a makeshift potions lab—though he had not known it at the time. The desk was there, crumbling with dust and age; two chairs, a workbench, a cauldron rusted through; and shelves and shelves of books.

He was immediately transported to his youth, looking in this room. He could smell his mother's perfume as they worked together, brewing potions, reading, speaking of what they would like to do in the garden and greenhouse. He remembered now the rare plants they had grown and tended together.

Wilkes had torched the garden when they came to destroy the house. It was no real loss by that point—seven years of neglect had left it overrun by weeds. Still, Severus remembered not wanting to be in that part of the grounds whilst the other young man worked.

Severus approached the shelves and began running his finger down the spines of the books, remembering each one, until he came to one he did not remember. One with nothing at all on the spine, except his name. _Severus_.

He pulled the thick, heavy book off the shelf and waved his wand at the desk and chair so that both were immediately clear of dust. He sat in the chair, set the book on the desk, and opened it.

Photos. Letters. Mementos. A scrapbook of his childhood, carefully preserved by his mother, here in the barn which his father never entered. Photos of him smiling as a baby, held in his radiant mother's arms. A black-eyed toddler bravely attempting to climb the steps of the house. A small boy of no more than Katrina's age, grinning, head to toe in dirt, while his mother smiled indulgently and planted flowers in the earth nearby.

Letters…

* * *

_My Dearest Severus,_

_You were born today, and have made me a Mum. I would never have known that love could be so consuming, so instant. The midwife laid you on my chest, and your dark eyes captured my heart. You did not even cry, so peacefully did you enter this world._

_I love you, my precious son. Thank you for coming into my life._

_Mummy_

_

* * *

_

_Sweetest Severus,_

_I'm sure there was never a more precocious child in the world, and your Gran agrees with me. Only four years old, and already you are reading and 'helping' me with potions. _

_Today, we made a kite the three of us together. I wonder if you will remember it when you grow up… I've left a picture here in our book. It was so big, and the wind so strong, I was afraid it would carry you away. You are such a little man—you would not let me help you fly it. "I'm not a baby, Mum," you said, "I can do it myself…"_

_We had such a fun day… it is the simple things, Severus, the simple, precious joys of life that matter. I hope you can remember that. I love you, my darling boy._

_Mum._

He did not need to look at the photo to remember the kite in question. Surely his mother had used magic to get it off the ground—the wood frame they used was too large, the paper covering it clumsily applied with spell-o-tape. The picture painted on it with childish strokes was of their 'happy' family—his mother, his grandmother, and himself. The memory of making it together so fresh and clear he could almost hear their laughter.

His grandmother had died not long after that, and his life changed, as did the tone of his mother's letters in the memory book. He turned the pages, reading and looking at the pictures hungrily, as though trying to grasp the past that had somehow eluded him… or that he had deliberately forgotten.

* * *

_Oh Severus!_

_Grandma has died today and we are both so sad. You have been so sweet, climbing on my lap and holding me, so that we can cry and share our grief together. It's a little easier, somehow, to share that grief, than to carry it alone, even though you are so very young._

_Grandma loved us, sweetheart. She loved us very much and she did all she could do to protect us._

_We will get through this, together._

_I love you,_

_Mum_

He remembered that day, too. If not _the_ day, at least the surrounding days. His father came home shortly after his grandmother died. He had been a rare visitor to the house between trips, but his Gran had protected him from the dangerous man's notice so that Severus had little recollection of him in his life until after her death.

On this homecoming, Severus received his first beating, for no reason that he could remember except 'sniveling like a baby'. His father had no patience for childish emotions. The cruel man had often told him to 'stop sniveling'. How amused would Black and Potter have been to know that their vicious nickname struck so painfully close to home?

The beating his mother had received for trying to protect him had induced her first miscarriage—the first of many. He had been too young to understand that she was pregnant, but he remembered her pain and the blood-replenishing potions she consumed for many days after his father left the house again. It was the first potion he learned to make on his own, his mother laying on a pallet near him and weakly giving him instructions.

* * *

_My precious boy,_

_Your father has come home. He has been traveling for a long time. You don't even remember him. He is proud and boastful when his friends come to visit. "Look at my boy; he looks just like me…" But he is so cruel when no one is here to see. I'm doing my best, son. He has already Marked us… if we leave, he will find us, and he would hurt you… he says he would kill you._

_How would I live if something happened to you?_

_You are the world to me. You are my precious child, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. It won't always be like this. He will go away again and it will be just you and I, as always._

_Please don't come between us when he is angry. Don't try and protect me—you are so sweet, so tender-hearted. It just makes him angrier. He thinks to make you "strong"…_

_I wish I could explain things to you so that you could understand. You ARE strong. You are stronger than your father could ever hope to be. Your strength comes from your heart, Severus, from your love—the source of all strength. Your father cannot love; he can never be strong. Not like you._

_I love you._

_Mum_

An anguished sound escaped him, half between a sob and a laugh. He pushed the book away and rested his face in his hands. Who was this son, this 'precious boy'? Who would ever have thought him 'tender-hearted' even as a child? Who was this boy who inspired love and laughed and flew kites and knew how to love in return?

When had he changed?

How long he sat there, hiding his eyes from the thick volume his mother had created in love, he did not know. Eventually, he found the strength to get up—the light was fading. He returned to the tent, leaving the book open where it lay. This was a journey best taken in small steps; he had absorbed as much as he could for today.

* * *

Rain spattered cold but gentle against the canvas of the tent, bringing him slowly to wakefulness. His dreams of that night had been of his mother, as though watching replays of his childhood. He showered and dawdled about the tent, procrastinating. It was behavior that was very unlike him, yet he felt he was trying to fortify himself for the next foray into his mother's memories. He was acutely aware of the magnitude of the gift she had given him, in that simple act of leaving her memories there for him to find.

He started, this time, with the photographs. Somehow, they were less acutely painful than the letters, though they often had accompanying journal entries or explanations. His mother, it appeared, was almost as unrealistically optimistic as his ex-wife was. Her letters and notations were filled with hope for the future, for _his_ future.

_You are not like your father, no matter how hard he tries to make you be._

_One day you will be free from this; don't let the bad memories wash away the good._

_I watch you work when we make potions together or work in the garden. Your hands are like mine, like my mother's. Long, thin fingered, strong and sure. Your father tells you that you are like him—do not forget that you are half Aryssain. _

_He tells us that this is his familial home, and I see your disgust. This house was all but a ruin when I came here. It is MY family's money and our blood, sweat and tears—yours and mine—that have made this land a home. It is ours more than it is his—it is YOURS, Severus. Do not hate the place because of a family name. You can make your name something to carry with pride. You do not have to follow in your father's path._

_

* * *

_

Some of the notations and photos brought a small smile to his lips as he recalled the situation. A doe gave birth on the edge of their clearing one day, badly wounded by a hunter's arrow. The creature died shortly after birthing the fawn, and the hunter showed up to claim his kill. Severus and his mother raised the fawn to health and released it to the wild. There were several photos of them smiling together with the little animal frolicking about.

_A cruel person would not care about the fate of a weaker, worthless creature. You do not have a cruel heart, Severus, no matter what your father tries to instill in you. Compassion and kindness are not weaknesses._

It was disturbing to read, to look through. Somewhere around the age of seven, his mother's annotations took on an almost pleading tone, as though she was begging him not to become what she feared; as though she was trying to convince herself as much as him that it was not part of his 'true' nature.

This seemed to occur shortly after the scant photos of his sister. He did not recall the house elf taking those photos, but then he did not recall most of the others being taken, either. This thought lead to another—all of the photos that Rowena had taken of him surreptitiously when they were in school together. He had wondered when he learned of those photos how she could have done that without him noticing. He had even been slightly alarmed to think that his observational skills were that poor as to miss something so obvious. Apparently he was so used to it at the time, that it seemed a normal part of his life.

Even the thoughts of Rowena could not keep his mind from the subject at hand, and his gaze refocused on the photos before him. He was glad to see them if only to cement the memory in his mind. Sometimes he felt as though he wasn't really sure the tiny infant had truly existed—though he certainly remembered the beating that lead to her premature birth in vivid detail.

Shockingly, at the precise time that he began to study the section of the scrap-book dedicated to this infant, Fawkes turned up. It wasn't shocking that the bird found him—any common wizarding owl could have found him. What was shocking was that it was Fawkes, and he was not here to deliver any dire message or plea for his immediate return. He set a shallow, square package on the table next to the album, blinked placidly at Severus, and flew away.

Inside the package was Albus's Pensieve, and a note.

* * *

_My Dear Boy,_

_It has come to my attention that your vacation might not be as restful as I had hoped. I wish I had known where you were going and what you were going to do before you left. I would have sent someone with you. Soul-searching is best done in solitude; it is true, but not necessarily alone._

_I can't come unless you truly need me, but I thought you might have use for this. I can do without it for a while. You are in my thoughts, Severus._

_Albus_

_

* * *

_

He could not imagine who would have told the Headmaster where he had gone. Only Rowena knew, and he doubted she was concerned enough anymore to make a point of telling anyone. It was a puzzle he did not wish to consider at this juncture. The Pensieve was a welcome addition. He looked at the photos of the tiny infant, and began to extract his own memories of the incident and place them in the shallow basin.

A Pensieve does not obliterate the memory of an incident from the user's mind, even when the memory enters the basin. It merely allows the user to become, emotionally, like a 'bystander' to the memory. It is useful when one needs to use Occlumency to put heavily emotionally charged memories into a Pensieve. Even though the memory remains in the mind, the emotion fueling the memory is diminished to a manageable level, making Occlumency easier to maintain.

The reverse is also true. The charged emotions are contained within the basin, as well as a much more objective view of the event in question. One can then gaze into the Pensieve and observe the event from an emotional distance, making it easier to clarify one's thoughts on the issue.

His thoughts on the very brief life of his sister were heavily emotionally charged, as well as being fuzzy with the fading of time and the fact that he had not yet been seven years old when she was born. Using the Pensieve would allow him clearer recollection.

* * *

The door slammed shut so hard that Severus heard glass break. The young boy in the memory ignored it, though he did come out of a cupboard he had been hiding within. He glanced about, indecisively, a huge bruise purpling the left side of his fair-skinned face. All indecision was gone when a woman screamed. The boy raced up two flights of stairs and bashed through a door. Severus trailed along behind him.

"OH NO!" The woman's voice screamed again, though it had a low, grunting undertone…"The baby… it's too soon… the baby…"

Severus watched the dark haired boy grab a wand from a secret compartment in a bedside table and approach the woman writhing in pain on the bed.

"Mum, I'm here. I'm here. Let me help. Tell me what to do." Tears poured down the boy's face; his dark eyes were wide with fright, but his voice was determined. "Mummy… she's going to be okay. She has to be okay. Tell me what to do…"

"It's too late…she's coming…" the woman groaned, sobbing even as she bore down, blood blossoming over the pastel bedding between her legs. She threw off the covers and reached down, crying out in pain. The boy watched in stunned fascination as the baby emerged quickly from his mother's body.

The woman wept. "No… no… no… too early…." But the baby moved and made tiny mewling sounds. It was a tiny thing, a female infant that could not have weighed all of three pounds. The back of the child's head was misshapen, more than could be accounted for just by the effort of birth…

But she _lived._ "Mum…tell me what to do."

"Keep her warm. Give me the wand." Blood still poured from the woman's womb, but her weak voice also sounded hopeful. She managed an incantation to repair the fractured skull and relieve pressure on the baby's brain, but she did not think it would be enough. Her own strength was failing her, and she had to use what was left to magically force the expulsion of the placenta and try to stop her own bleeding.

The boy rushed to another cupboard and brought thick towels and blankets, drying the baby with remarkable gentleness for a child that was scarcely more than a baby himself. Severus remembered helping store the supplies in anticipation of the baby. He remembered his mother teaching him to change diapers using a doll to demonstrate. He remembered discussing names, proudly listening to all the 'responsibilities' he would inherit upon becoming a 'big brother'. For some reason, his father had been gone an unusually long time, so that her pregnancy was able to advance to the point where she was willing to tell Severus about it and become hopeful, preparing.

Severus shook away the memory as he observed. The woman on the bed became weaker and weaker, as did the infant in the boy's arms. The boy summoned a house-elf for hot-water bottles, infant formula, eyedroppers. He did not know how to help his mother—they had not discussed complications of birth.

The boy sat in a cushioned rocking chair right next to the woman's bed with the warm bundle in his arms. A house elf administered blood replenishing potions to the woman, while the boy crooned lullabies in a childish voice, carefully giving the baby drops of formula occasionally, begging her to live.

"I've always wanted to be a big-brother. It's okay around here, but it would be more fun to have someone to play with. You've got to grow big and strong so I can teach you about flutterby bushes and bubotubers…"

Occasionally the woman would wake and look at her two children cuddled together. Her eyes would fill with tears as she watched them.

"How is she doing, Severus? Let me see her…"

The boy carefully slid off the chair and carried the baby to their mother.

"She's a very pretty baby, isn't she mummy?" He asked, looking at her hopefully. "I didn't expect her to have all that hair when she came out. I think she's bigger already—she's drank about three drams of formula. She's going to be okay, isn't she, mum? Can we name her Sonja like we talked about?"

The woman wept silently and exerted herself enough to sit up against the back of the bed, pulling her son closer so that she was holding him as he held the baby.

"She's beautiful, Severus. I think, maybe we should call her Angel, because I'm afraid that soon she will be one. I'm so sorry, sweetheart… I know how much you wanted to be a big brother."

"NO!" The boy shouted at his mother, looking at her in shocked anger. "NO! She's going to be fine. She can't die! I already love her! She's mine! I'm going to make her better—I'm going to keep her safe!"

The silent tears of the woman became heart-wrenching sobs so that it was difficult to make out her words. "I know, son. I already love her, too. She's too hurt, honey. She got hurt in my tummy and she's too tiny… I can't help her."

"NO!" The boy shouted again in rage, and ran though the house, carrying the tiny baby gently clutched to his chest.

At last he ran—almost literally—into the one other human in the house. The man who had left the building hours earlier was back. He was moving in and out of the house, packing the carriage to leave. The man stopped to glare down at his son. "What is it boy, why are you sniveling again? Why are you always sniveling?"

The man drew back his hand to swing carelessly at the boy, but he stopped short at the sight of the pastel bundle in the boy's arms. "What the bloody hell is that you got there?"

The boy's eyes flashed and an outside observer might have shuddered at the sudden resemblance to the present-day Potion's Master at his most enraged. He set his chin and drew himself up bravely. There was no fear or tremor in his voice as he faced the man who made his life so unbearable.

"This is my sister. She was just born. She's badly hurt. I want you to take us to the Hospital so they can fix her." He paused then, hesitating. He was, after all, only a child himself. His voice broke, becoming almost desperate, pleading. "Please… sir… Father… I'll do anything. Please don't let her die!"

The man's face twisted into a cruel smirk—another frighteningly similar expression to those who knew Professor Severus Snape. "Sister, eh? Lemme tell you boy; there's not a female on the planet worth anything until they're old enough to shag. Go drown that thing in the tub and throw it on the burn-heap. I'm not wasting a knut on that."

Surprisingly he did not punctuate this phrase with any sort of violence. He turned to look back at the boy when he reached the door. "Does your mother live?" he asked, almost as though the answer did not matter. The boy merely nodded, mute in his enraged misery. "Fine. Tell her I'll be back in six months time and get another one on her. If it's a boy, we'll have a nice little party. I don't want to catch you sniveling over that thing when I get back, either."

The silence, when the door shut with a soft 'snick', was deafening.

Severus Snape stared for a long time at the frozen-in-time memory of his younger self as the boy's expression gradually turned from stunned grief to shocked anger to a slow, burning hatred.

The memory of himself returned to his mother's bedside. Severus, as an adult, was shocked and alarmed at how pale his mother looked. If he had not known that she lived beyond this day, he would have been certain that his mother was on the brink of death even as his sister was. As it was, the internal damage prevented any other pregnancies; so at the very least she never had to endure this sort of pain again.

The boy climbed back on the bed with his mother—the house elves had cleaned the blood off the bedding. The baby did not wake enough to swallow any more formula and gradually became blue around the hands and lips; rosy cheeks became pale from internal bleeding. Occasionally his mother would wake to hold him as he held the baby and they would both weep helplessly as they watched her slowly fade from life.

Less than six hours after birth, Sonja Angel Snape was gone.

* * *

Painfully, he extracted himself from the Pensieve. His face was wet, though he did not notice. Memories and feelings rushed over him in a dizzying array: the receiving of unconditional love from his mother, the experiencing and giving of that same powerful emotion to the tiny infant he had loved before she was even born, and the rage and hatred that became the only bearable balm for his pain. All of it came flooding through him. He hid from and avoided love because it was so bloody _painful_!

Yet now, as an adult, and finally able to recall the purity of that emotion, he realized that he would not have wished to NOT experience it, even if it would have spared him pain. He suddenly remembered his mother's favorite quote, and for the first time truly understood it.

_Vivre est Mourir-To Live is to Die. _

He spent the rest of his time there slowly going through the rest of the photos, letters and journal entries, and also tending to the gravesites.

When his grandmother had died, his mother had buried her on a small hill near the barn and bought a Magnolia tree, enchanting it so that it would have the perfect conditions for life and growth even in this chill climate.

When Sonja had died, Severus himself had dressed her tiny body in the clothes they had bought for her, a house elf shrunk them to fit properly, and then Severus placed her in the small doll-cradle he had made with his mother's help. The cradle was supposed to be a present, a toy for the baby sister he knew was coming. Instead, it served as a coffin once he had fitted it with a lid. His mother struggled against hemorrhage for weeks, and was not present when he buried the small bundle. She did help him make the headstone, when she was well again.

When his mother had been brutally murdered by his father, and Severus expelled from the house, he hid in the barn until he knew his father was gone again. The house elves helped him use the wood from an old hay-wagon to make a suitable coffin and he buried his mother on the same hill, between her own mother and her infant daughter. There had been no time, then, for a headstone. When he returned to extract vengeance on his father, he was too far lost to darkness to care.

Now, he did care, he had time, and he was an extremely competent wizard.

Hours and days of painstaking, careful work, and the vividly blooming Magnolia tree was graced with three glistening headstones, the overgrowth of the other two being carefully removed. A rose bush was planted between his mother and sister's graves, with similar climate controlling charms applied to protect that as well.

He did not even feel ashamed of the tears that poured down his face as he worked, nor did he attempt in any way to stem their flow.

* * *

A/N: Nope, it's not Rowena who told Albus where Severus was and why. You'll see. As always, reviews are adored. 


	36. Chapter 36: Holiday Research

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

Things get better and more cheerful from here on out, with a few bumps in the road. Some of the sites to which I post this story do not automatically email those of you 'watching' this story to notify you of updates. If you would like to be on my email notification list, please email me through the links on my Author Profile.

* * *

Chapter 36: Holiday Research

* * *

Rowena's time, after the recovery of her brother, was spent on trying to go on normally, after the events of January and February. She continued Occlumency lessons with Harry, though he was rapidly exceeding her abilities now that he had mastered the basics. He had far greater natural gift in the area than she had, and she felt that their sessions did more to help strengthen what little skill she possessed than helped Harry advance further. Her choice would have been to have Harry continue on with his lessons with Severus—but Harry adamantly refused to even discuss the issue.

Harry witnessed enough in her mind during their sessions to increase his dislike of Snape. He could not tell the nature of the break-up between them, but he could tell that Snape instigated it, and that Rowena was still hurting from it. He also 'saw' that Remus was still alive, and that Snape had something to do with that as well, though everyone tried to conceal the information from Harry. He knew Remus had been attacked; he'd been allowed to visit once while Remus was unconscious in the hospital, but he had also been allowed to believe the Prophet when news of "Remus's death" was leaked to the papers.

This did nothing to ease Harry's resentment toward the adults around him, still trying to keep information from him. Whether they distrusted him, or feared Voldemort would see into his thoughts accidentally, he did not know or care. He spent more time with Ron and Hermione since Christmas, and made every appearance of 'normalcy' on the outside. Rowena could sense the growing resentment inside of him though, and it worried her. She feared it was only a matter of time before he did something rash again. She could no longer 'read' him well enough to know what depth of information he learned from HER during their lessons, and that was another reason she felt it might be best if he move on to a different instructor. Shortly before the Easter Holiday, she mentioned it to the Headmaster, who promised to look into it.

Her evenings, when she finished what little marking she had, were often spent with Hermione. The girl had first returned to aiding Severus with his potion supplies for Madame Pomfrey when her mother was recovered, but for some reason he indicated that he no longer needed her aid. Rowena knew he was putting many of his more gifted N.E.W.T. students to work on various things, and also used those potions-making detentions as an opportunity to keep an eye on his Slytherin students. He wanted every opportunity to try and dissuade them from taking the Mark as the end of the school year approached—though this he had to do carefully so as not to seem genuinely disloyal himself.

Rowena was glad for Hermione's presence in her work. Rowena started on the research of trying to remove the Protean charm and Severus's Mark ages ago, when they were first married. He had scoffed at the project, but did not forbid her to try. He even submitted to a very superficial skin-scraping to have samples of the material used to make the Mark. Unsurprisingly, it contained Voldemort's blood—or at least they suspected that's whose it was.

They discussed the charm at great length. Hermione had interesting insights, but unfortunately, neither of them could come up with a way to break the one foremost in both their minds without a sample of blood from the original caster—Voldemort. As attaining that was a pipe dream at best, it was a project they spoke of without any real hope of solving the problem.

The physical pain that was the lingering shadow of the broken Bond intensified after nearly two months of gradual decrease, when Severus visited her that day, one week before the Easter Holiday. After that visit, she made certain not to take any meals in the Hall when he was there, and Albus for once had not pressed the issue. She managed to pass the entire week before his departure without having to see him once. None of this eased the sharp ache, and she decided to turn her research toward her own relief.

* * *

"Hermione, what do you know of the Soul Bond?" she asked over tea a few days before the start of the Easter Holiday.

Hermione beamed at her, appearing almost transported. "Oh! I've read something about that when I was researching my essay on Wizarding Marriage Rituals Throughout The Centuries. It sounds so romantic! I mean, it is a little dark, isn't it, because it uses blood magic…"

Hermione proceeded to enumerate all the things Rowena already knew and had experienced, but had no new insight to offer.

"What about breaking the Bond?" Rowena asked.

"I don't know. What I read said it couldn't really be broken, though I do think I recall something about attempts at breaking it and the side effects. It seemed that it often resulted in the death of the Bonded pair."

"I think I'd like to do some research on it," said Rowena casually. "Would you like to help me? Maybe it would give us insight into helping Professor Snape remove his Mark. I'd like to know if the Bond can be broken, and if it can be repaired or restored once it's broken. It wouldn't do not to explore all the possibilities. If You-Know-Who can just restore it somehow, we'd be back where we started—or worse because he'd know the Professor was trying to get free."

The research on the Bond, of course, was more for her own information and possible relief—but it might also help in the former, and was a good excuse not to rouse Hermione's suspicion on the project. Characteristically, Hermione attacked the problem with enthusiasm.

* * *

The other challenge facing Rowena was not one she really considered a problem, but it was still an issue that needed to be resolved, and soon. Severus's application to adopt Katrina had been turned down, of course, though he had fought it exhaustively through all the legal channels. However, it had long since expired, and once again the child was at risk for being adopted by a legally 'acceptable' family who might very easily be Death Eaters.

Rowena addressed this problem by applying for her adoption herself. Once again she was told that it was preferential to grant adoptions to married couples for the 'best interest' of the child, but she would be 'considered'. She finished her first round of paperwork in that regard early in March, and now had to wait for the sluggish bureaucracy to begin its work.

Katrina was oblivious to the turmoil. She was content living with the Weasleys in their quarters in the castle where she saw either Rowena or Severus every day, and often both. On the weekends they took turns spending time with her, and she also spent time with Becky. The child was as happy as she could be considering the circumstances.

Dylan learned of Rowena's application to adopt Katrina, and came to visit her one evening after hearing of it. She was quick to answer her door, the piles of papers on her dinette table speaking of research she was doing as always.

"Come in, Dylan. What brings you here this evening?" she asked as she settled into one of the armchairs near her fire.

"I heard 'bout you tryin' t'adopt that little filly. Wondered if there was anythin' I could do ta help?" he said without preamble as he sat in the chair opposite. His jangling spurs were mercifully absent.

"Short of changing all the Ministry adoption laws, I don't know how, but thank you." A wave of her wand summoned her teapot and a steaming cup of coffee for him as she recalled his preference.

"I'd marry ya if it'd help," he said without batting an eye. She nearly spilled her tea as she looked at him in shock. "Don't be lookin' at me like that. You know I ain't interested in ya that way. I know yer heart's all in knots for the bat in his cave. But it don't look like either of us is gonna get our wish, might as well do somethin' worthwhile. I don't want nobody like Luke or his lot to get their paws on the little gal. I'd be legal for that Ministry red-tape, and you'd know yer girl was safe, wouldn't ya?"

After the initial shock was gone, Rowena felt a wave of fondness for Dylan that she hadn't realized she'd developed. She had found him incredibly annoying for months, yet when the time came that she genuinely needed a true friend, he stepped forward without hesitation, which did not mean that she would accept his generous offer. She shook her head and gave him a sad sort of smile.

"Thank you, Dylan. Honestly. It means the world to me that you'd even offer, and I know you're sincere. But I just can't. Not even to keep Katrina. It just wouldn't be right on so many levels. Thank you, but no."

"Ah, s'alright. I didn't figure ya'd accept, but I thought I'd offer. She's a real sweet little thing; I'd hate fer her to be hurt again. Or you, fer that matter."

They talked on mundane things for a while after, and then he took his leave.

* * *

On the first day of the break, Hermione appeared in Rowena's office door with a pile of old books stacked high in her arms.

"I found some things on the Soul Bond, but I don't know if any of it will help," she said without preamble. Rowena waved her wand to clear a space on her worktable, and they began to pour over the books. Hermione had bookmarks in the relevant pages.

"Here, it talks about a couple that tried to break the bond, but they both died three days later. Apparently she slept with his brother, and he caught them and killed the brother. There seems to be a lot of hatred involved in that attempted breaking.

"Here's another that managed to get the same wizard who created the bond to perform the breaking—that's pretty rare, most of them won't do the severing. They lived to normal ages after, but their magic was affected and they never managed to form other relationships after. Not even friendships. It was like their emotions went 'numb' or something."

That piqued Rowena's interest, and she made note of that spot in the book. Her emotions definitely felt "off" of late. Numb was a good word to describe it, particularly when dealing with Severus himself.

"Now, here's one where the couple severed the bond—he had some disease and he was afraid it would kill her too, through the bond. She thought he would live longer if she wasn't a 'draw' on him. It was sort of a self-sacrifice thing on both their parts—they both thought it was the better thing for the other person. It seems that this was the closest to a successful severing, though neither of them made any new relationships after, either. Their magic didn't seem affected at least.

"All of these cases talk about the residual feeling of the bond, describing it as a pain or a heaviness of various degrees of intensity, and an alteration in their ability to experience emotions properly afterward, especially stronger emotions. There's also some reference to still vaguely 'receiving' emotional impressions from the bonded partner even after the severing—but not as clearly and it's not usually recognizable as such, according to what limited reference I can find."

She chattered non-stop as was her wont when she was excited about learning something new, and Rowena did not interrupt, merely followed Hermione's finger down the pages of the various books as she talked. Eventually her references became more scattered, the documentation based more on speculation and suppositions, and Hermione's recitation became more hesitating.

"The only place I can find that talks about restoring the bond is purely theoretical. The bond is made in love. To successfully break it without severe damage or death to the involved parties, it must be broken in love, though it seems all the examples show a rather twisted expression of love.

"To repair it, it's theorized that there has to be some extremely strong expression of love again. It seems unlikely to happen, because severing the bond dampens the very emotion needed to restore it. Both parties have to be willing to prove their love in some dramatic fashion, maybe a sacrifice of some sort. It doesn't say how that's accomplished—it's not a ritual that can be performed.

"In theory, such actions would cause a spontaneous healing of the Bond. But they'd be re-bonded, one to the other. I can't find any instance of being able to successfully sever a Bond then go on and Bond with someone else, even in the case of the death of a bonded partner. Actually, the more I read about it, the less romantic and more dangerous it sounds, to be honest."

She blushed and smiled at Rowena as she continued, "Then again, if you know there's only one person you'll ever love in your whole life, it would be a wonderful thing to be Bonded with them forever, wouldn't it?"

Rowena smiled back and nodded noncommittally, though she was turning over the information Hermione had discussed in her mind. There was nothing in the notes about how to ease the pain of the severed Bond, and the thought of dealing with it forever was rather depressing. The idea of 'repairing the Bond' seemed almost repugnant. She wondered if that was her real feeling on the matter, or another symptom of the emotional damage done when the Bond was broken.

"I don't think this is related to what V-voldemort did to Professor Snape, though," said Hermione, stumbling over the name but still managing to say it—more than Rowena ever had done. "The Bond is all about love. The initial Bonding ritual won't even work at all—won't bind the two people—if the love fueling it isn't real. It will still look neat to observers on the outside, but nothing will happen magically. I can't imagine that Voldemort ever felt anything for any of his followers except desire to control and manipulate, can you?"

"No, Hermione, you're quite right. I don't think this is going to help us with that Protean charm at all. I have to admit, though, it's interesting, isn't it? Thank you for trying to find it out. I've been too busy with school work to have time for tangents."

"Oh, sure, no problem. I found out so much information about Blood Magic while I was researching that I added to my essay for Professor Howard. It's two more rolls of parchment than he asked for, I just got so fascinated in it!"

Rowena smiled indulgently, though her mind was a thousand miles away. "Are these Library references, Hermione? Can I have them for a few days? I'll take them back for you."

"Oh, sure, Professor Lupin, no problem. I've got to get back to my usual revision anyway. Exams are only ten weeks away!"

* * *

Strangely, during this holiday, she began having disturbing dreams. They weren't like the nightmares that she experienced after the ordeal at the Malfoy's Christmas party. Instead they were vague and formless; she could never 'see' anything properly. She would feel a sense of intense emotions—fear, anger, sadness, all swirling together, and would wake with that sadness increasing so much in intensity that she would actually find herself sobbing over her morning cup of tea for no apparent reason at all. The feeling intensified until she felt so depressed and lonely that she was prone to bursting into tears at the oddest times.

This was distressing to her to say the least—she was not normally a person prone to depression or mood swings. Unwilling to bother any of the other teachers about it and yet needing to speak to someone, Rowena headed to Grimmauld place.

"Rowena, hello, I wasn't expecting you," Remus said as he helped her out of the floo. He pulled her into a hug, but was alarmed when she burst into a storm of tears, sobbing into his shoulder as though he were a lifeline. "Rowena… honey… what's wrong? Is it Severus? Katrina? Mum?"

She shook her head to each question as he ran through the list of people he thought might be able, in living or dying, to cause her this level of distress. When he realized he was not going to get anything out of her but a nod or shake of her head, he simply held her until the storm passed.

"I don't know what's gotten into me… I'm crying all the time for no reason…" she said at last, hiccupping between words as she tried to calm her breathing.

Unbeknownst to Rowena, Albus Dumbledore had brought Harry and Hermione to visit Remus a few days before. Remus was especially bored, Harry was especially annoyed, and the Headmaster had decided that hiding things from Harry was only going to make things worse. Ron was unable to come due to family issues—apparently Percy was coming to see everyone, and a row was expected. That many red-heads in one room and it was hardly avoidable.

At any rate, Hermione had mentioned some of the research she had just done for Rowena. Hermione was too distant from the situation and too naïve to catch the subtleties, but Remus thought he had a better idea of what was going on than he had before. He desperately wished he'd been successful in his attempts to threaten the man off his sister at the start of term. On the other hand, if they had been Bonded, it meant that whether or not he was able to express it properly, Snape must genuinely love her—the Bond wouldn't work if the emotion wasn't there to fuel it.

Of course, suspecting that it was also now severed returned him to anger… but his instinctive protectiveness of his sister would not help her now. Only helping the eejit who caused her this pain would.

A cup of cocoa, a warm blanket, and a companionable game of chess allowed the two siblings to return to a level of closeness they had not shared for a very long time. Remus was glad she had known she could turn to him in her distress. He was sorry to hear about her worries over the placement of Katrina. He silently made a mental note to tell the Headmaster where Snape had gone—it would do no one any good if he got himself killed.

Rowena was able to regain her equilibrium, and returned to Hogwarts, promising to return soon to visit. The promise was kept the next day, and the next, and the next, each arrival began with the same flurry of desperate, heart-wrenching, grief-stricken sobs.

Remus no longer had the strength to feel angry with Snape—if his sister was this distressed through a broken Bond that no longer received emotions properly, he hated to guess what the man was experiencing on the other end. He was glad he had told Albus of his whereabouts. The Headmaster had been very grateful for the information, though he had looked concerned.

* * *

Remus and Tonks announced their intention to get married, which punctuated the end of the Easter Holidays. As Severus and Rowena had done, they would use Albus to officiate, and planned to keep all documentation secret until it was safe for the world at large to know that Remus hadn't actually died two months ago. However, it was a fairly "Open" secret amongst the innermost Order as well as the Weasley children (who survived the rather rocky beginnings of reconciliation with Percy), Harry and Hermione.

Rowena was the first one they told, Tonks being at Grimmauld place when she visited on the last day of the Holiday. They had had to wait until the storm of sobbing had subsided, then cope with another one as she wept her joyous congratulations to both of them. She was sworn to secrecy and recruited as Maid of Honor.

All in all, the Easter "holiday" had not been very restful.

* * *

A/N: I'm "ahead" several chapters now. My Beta has chapters 38 and 39; 37 is already returned to me and going through final revisions. 40 and 41 are nearly read to send to her. My goal is to complete the story before my children get out of school May 25th. You can expect regular updates between now and then. Thank you for your patience and for reading.

On that note, I would love to know you're "out there". Constructive, specific criticism and comments are always welcome, but even a short, "I'm here and I'm reading" would mean a lot. I don't really know if anyone besides my beta and a handful of very devoted 'fans' and dear friends are reading along. Leave a review and let me know, won't you?


	37. Chapter 37: Seeking Equilibrium

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 37: Seeking Equilibrium

* * *

He carefully stored the scrapbook in his own chambers, securing it with wards and enchantments as though it was the most valuable thing he had ever owned; as indeed it was. He then unpacked the Pensieve and headed to the Headmaster's office.

"Severus, I'm glad to see you've returned safely. I was quite concerned." Albus immediately set aside the parchment upon which he was writing and stood to greet Severus at the door. The Potion's Master silently handed Albus the Pensieve.

"Thank you. I had not thought I would have need of this, but I was grateful for it when it arrived," he said placidly, not meeting the headmaster's eyes.

"How are you?" Albus asked, accepting the shallow stone basin without taking his worried gaze off of the younger man's face.

Severus snorted and turned away, running his hand distractedly across the back of one of Albus's wing-backed chairs. "I have finally come to realize that there are some risks worth taking, no matter what. That revolting cliché, _'_it_ is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all',_ is horribly, utterly correct. This 'epiphany' comes to me just in time for me to realize that it is likely too late for me to repair the mistakes I've made. Considering all of that, I'm doing as well as can be expected. Better than I deserve."

"It's never too late my boy, not as long as we draw breath. It's never too late to start a new chapter in our lives. It just takes extra effort."

"I don't know how. I don't even know where to begin," he said, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

"At the beginning is usually a good place," said Albus, smiling mischievously. "By the way, Remus Lupin would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience."

"Splendid. The perfect ending to the perfect Holiday. Good evening then, Headmaster," Severus said, not having once met the eyes of the man who had been more of a father to him than his 'real' father had ever been. When he turned to leave, Albus stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and Severus could not avoid the soul-searching gaze.

"Your mother loved you very much. I'm glad to see you finally coming to accept that. There are more people than you might think that would love you, Severus, if only you would let them."

Before he had experienced his dramatic, traumatic 'homecoming', Severus might have scoffed at this statement. Coming from Albus, he might have only protested that allowing people close to him was too dangerous to their safety. Now, he simply had no answer.

It _was_ dangerous to associate with him, by virtue of his own choices that he had made in his life. It was very difficult for him to allow those few people who understood that danger to make their own decisions. He had no right to try and 'rob' others of whatever pleasure they might get in love—even if they mistakenly chose to love _him_.

Why couldn't he have discovered all this a few months before?

He knew why, of course—because he hadn't been looking for answers before now. He didn't want to have to deal with the pain and the realizations that he was now facing.

"Thank you, Albus," he said sincerely, "I will endeavor to make the attempt."

Albus squeezed his shoulder gently before dropping his hand. He smiled warmly at Severus and watched silently as the young man left the room in a swirling flutter of his black robes.

* * *

Lupin was sitting in almost the precise spot he had occupied two weeks before, sans blanket and looking less wan. Severus stepped through the floo with a minimum of soot and fanfare. His dark eyes raked the werewolf critically and found him to be looking, if anything, more obnoxiously cheerful than Severus had ever seen him. Severus found this unspeakably irritating.

"The Headmaster informed me you wished to see me on some business that apparently would not wait. What is so urgent that lays claim to my valuable time?" he asked with none of the attempted cordiality that colored his voice on his previous visit.

Alarmingly, the werewolf stood and approached him, and even had the audacity to shake his hand in warm greeting, as though they were friends. "Severus, splendid to see you too," Remus said, beaming. "Won't you sit down? Tea?"

Severus resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his robes as though it had been soiled by the touch, but it was a near thing. He knew that he had been the one to make the cordial overtures the last time, and perhaps Lupin thought that invited a certain level of informality. However, he was simply not up to exerting the effort required to overcome twenty years of rather beloved habit where the werewolf was concerned; not today at any rate.

His earlier interest in friendship was currently deeply buried under fatigue and private turmoil. Clearly learning the art of friendship was something that would take Snape a great deal of time and effort to develop. Perhaps something akin to the effort Neville Longbottom would need to create a difficult potion. That is to say, nigh on impossible

Severus slowly arched one brow in an expression of supreme disdain, "Lupin, I am in no humor for the friendship rituals today. Do tell me what is so urgent and allow me to take my leave."

"Ah, I see. No tea then. Firewhiskey? Or perhaps a nice brandy? I have something very important to talk to you about, Severus, and even a favor of sorts to ask. It'd be easier if you'd at least pretend to be trying to listen?" He waved at the chair that was the companion to the one he had been sitting in when Severus arrived.

Severus sighed irritably through his nose but did at last take the 'offered' chair. "No beverages, thank you. I was not aware that we had advanced to the point in our acquaintance where you had enough influence to be calling in favors? I believe it could be argued that I have done you enough 'favors' over the years?"

Remus mimicked the sigh and motion as he took his own chair with the animal grace the lycanthropy gave him now that he was fully recovered.

"I thought you went away to find out that things don't work that way in genuine relationships? It's not about 'owing' someone, but the camaraderie and affection that comes with true friendship."

"It is none of your business what I went away to do. You presume a great deal, Lupin, to think that even if I had learned any such thing, I would feel any level of friendship with _you_," he said with a sneer.

"Touché," Remus said with an incline of his head. "I would hope as future brothers-in-law and moreover almost the last of our class all those years ago, _and_ our time together as colleagues, that we'd have some sort of understanding, Severus."

"Lupin, I am no longer engaged to your sister," he said dangerously.

"Ah… but you were Bonded with her," Remus said, grinning smugly, enjoying the surprised scowl that Severus made no attempt to conceal. "That tells me that you did love her enough for the Bonding to work, and that you must have some level of love for her still, or you'd have both died when you broke it. At least as near as I can tell from Hermione's research." He continued speaking quickly, not allowing Severus the opportunity to question the source of his information, nor to confirm or deny its accuracy.

"So I'm certain you'll be married to her again, eventually. You're both stubborn as mules; I might die of old age before that happens, but I'm sure it will."

"Is that the 'favor' you wish to ask? To try and convince me to repair my relationship with your sister?" Severus all but growled.

"Oh, no," said Remus, still smiling genially. "That was actually the threat part—I'm not very good at those apparently. It's just not in my nature. We did establish the bit about…"

"Ah, yes, the 'brotherly' duty of protector…" Severus tensed even as he thought this. His own memories of his perceived 'failure' to perform that brotherly duty for his own sister were far too fresh in his mind. Moreover, he could clearly imagine how he would feel if he were in Remus' place, more now than he ever had before. He actually wondered at Lupin's almost ridiculous level of tolerance. He didn't think he'd be so placid if their situations were reversed.

"Exactly! I'd really hate to fight with you as man or werewolf. As 'Moony', I learned first hand that Death Eaters taste terrible a few months ago. I'd rather not repeat that experience, ever if I can help it."

Severus snorted, "You've come a long way if you can joke so lightly about those deaths, no matter how deserved."

Remus shifted from playful bantering to seriousness in an instant, "Yes, actually, I have come a long way. My life has altered dramatically starting about the time that Sirius died. I've finally realized that life is too short to dwell on the past and all of those wise sayings that our elders spout off at us as kids, hoping that someday we'll understand their meaning.

"That actually brings us to the favor part. Tonks has agreed to marry me. I'd like you to stand up with me."

"WHAT?" Severus did not bother to hide his incredulity. "However did you possibly come up with the idea to ask ME to do this thing? You have plenty of friends, choose one of them."

Leaning back in his chair more comfortably, and smiling at his 'victory'—for surely if Severus intended to refuse he would have already done so—Remus calmly contradicted him.

"There're lots of people who like me, and who I like back, sure. But most of my true 'friends' are gone. Think about it. Of the people we hung out with in school, who's left? I'm the last Gryffindor from my class except Peter. You've got a few more Slytherins. We got on well enough in school, you and me, until Sirius pulled his stunt. We've had our differences, I realize. The thing is, Severus, in a lot of ways, you're all that's left of my peers, my contemporaries who were a vital part of the formative years of my life.

"You don't have to do the 'best man' speech or anything. Harry's already asked if he could do that. He'll be one of my groomsmen as well. He's not of age, yet, though, so he can't witness the marriage and sign the license. I'd like you to be my Best Man."

Severus stood and went to the cupboard in the corner, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. He sniffed the liquid almost delicately, glared at the bottle a moment, and seemed to find it adequate, as he poured two equal measures and returned to his chair. He set one of the glasses on the coffee table near Remus and leaned back in his chair, staring silently at the brandy as he swirled it in his glass. Only after several swallows of the drink and a long period of silence, did he answer. He seemed to have left his snark at the liquor cabinet.

"Lupin, I am very cognizant of the honor you offer, and I appreciate the… display of confidence or whatever this is. I assure you it is unnecessary. I give you my word that I will do my utmost to spare your sister additional grief where I am concerned. It is not necessary to try and protect her by attempting to be 'nice' to me. Let Potter be your Best Man. You know as well as I do that witness signatures are not necessary—it's an old formality."

"I'm not doing this for Rowena. I'm doing it for me. It might be an old formality, but it's traditional, and Tonks wants a traditional wedding with all the trimmings. I intend to make sure she gets it."

"So you are done hiding then?" A traditional wedding with all the 'trimmings' would hardly allow Remus to continue to be believed dead.

"Yes. That was my other concern. When I'm discovered alive, I don't imagine Voldemort will be very pleased."

Severus snorted at the understatement. "He is prepared to hear of it, though. I have told Lucius that no one was shown a body, and that I did not believe your sister to be 'grieving' much for the death of a brother. I told him that I believed your father to have sent for a Potions Master from the Orient—their methods are utterly different from ours. I do not believe I will be overly suspect at this juncture."

Not that the Dark Lord could be depended on to vent his displeasure only on the parties 'to blame'.

"I don't want to keep hiding, but I will if it's too dangerous for you," Remus continued as though Severus hadn't spoken. His tone betrayed his concern. "Albus will be doing the ceremony, and only Order Members will be invited. No one outside of the Order needs to know you were there. But when Tonks files the license at the Ministry, well…. We've talked about it already, and she's agreed to have Albus keep the license, not to file it so that it doesn't have to become public knowledge. I wouldn't want my happiness to immediately cause you problems."

Severus sipped again from his drink, regarding Remus thoughtfully. He still found it difficult to believe that other people might be genuinely concerned for his safety. It was one more thing to add to all the other strange facets of the 'softer' emotions that he was still trying to understand. However he was not willing to allow the lycanthrope to make sacrifices on his behalf. It still felt too much like being in his 'debt'.

"Do not stay in this repugnant habitation a day longer than necessary on my accord. It would certainly be leaked eventually, and the situation would only be worse for the delay. File the license as soon as the thing is complete, as any other revoltingly happy newlyweds would do," he said.

"Alright, then," Remus said, grinning once again. "So? Will you do it?"

"Stand up with Dumbledore's werewolf at his marriage to an Auror with Harry Potter on the other side and Dumbledore himself officiating? That must be the fondest wish of many a Death Eater. Please tell me this blessed event is occurring at Hogwarts, because nowhere else would be safe from outright attack."

"Of course at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall."

"Very well, Lu…" he stopped and corrected himself. "Remus. I will stand with you at your marriage. Unless you find someone more suitable between now and then."

"Excellent! Do you have time for a game of chess? I know you said you were very busy."

Severus shrugged and turned his glass in his hand so the firelight glinted off the crystal and the liquid within. "For a while, though I doubt I will be able to stay to the game's completion. I wouldn't wish to waste decent brandy."

Remus laughed his agreement. "It's one of the few decent things in this place, but the wine cellar is full of all sorts of good potables."

"You don't say?" He asked in feigned boredom. He then immediately embarked on the real reason he had agreed to stay. He wanted information.

"How did Granger find out about the Bonding?" Severus asked abruptly as Remus was setting up the board.

"Rowena asked her to do some research on it; only she told Hermione that she thought there might be some useful information for breaking the Protean Charm. I heard Hermione talking about it with Harry when they came to visit on the first day of break. It's a good thing that I heard that conversation, actually. When Rowena visited the next day, I had a suspicion of what was going on and didn't rush her straight to St. Mungo's." Remus held out his closed fists, but Severus didn't 'choose' right away.

"What happened to Rowena?" he asked sharply.

"She spent the Easter Holiday sobbing buckets on the drawing room couch, that's what," said Remus seriously. "She was having odd dreams she wouldn't tell me about and would burst into uncontrollable weeping for no reason at all and just wouldn't stop. She's not normally anywhere near that emotional. I'd have suspected a student tampering with a love potion or something if I hadn't heard Hermione talking.

"Choose?" he said, still holding his hands out. Severus chose the left hand with a nod, black. He remained silent for a time, frowning at the board.

"Is that why you told the Headmaster where I had gone?" he asked at last as Remus made the first move of the game. He hadn't inquired of the Headmaster how he had known that Severus might have need of his Pensieve, but now it was obvious.

"Yes. I didn't know where you had gone until Rowena mentioned it. I wasn't trying to interfere, Severus. I apologize for making any presumptions. But I admit that I was concerned. If my fairly stoic sister was all but hysterical just picking up… whatever it was she was feeling, then I sort of figured that things might be difficult for you. I thought Albus was the best person to know what—if anything—could be done to help you."

Severus didn't answer, and the game progressed in silence for several rounds.

"Thank you," Severus said at last, leaning away from the board again and looking directly at Remus. Once again he was on unfamiliar territory, yet he felt the gesture needed some acknowledgement. Remus had not made mockery of where he was or what he was doing, as doubtless he could have with Order Members in and out of Headquarters often enough. He had also understood Severus at least enough to know the one person who would know the 'right' way to answer his need at that time.

Aside from those from Rowena and the Headmaster himself, it was one of the few unselfish acts anyone had ever done for him, and he was not untouched by it.

"I am not accustomed to having people be concerned for my whereabouts for any benevolent reason. The Headmaster's intervention was welcome. I… thank you."

Remus grinned. He might have brushed off the thanks as unnecessary, as indeed it was, and Remus was not normally comfortable in receiving praise for things that he felt anyone ought to have done. However, he knew that Severus was even less comfortable accepting such gestures, no matter how trivial, and Remus did not want to minimize the effort Severus had just made to offer him thanks to begin with.

"Sure, Severus, no problem. That's what friends are for. I'm glad it helped."

Severus said nothing in response to this, though he was quite certain that one of the downsides of learning to manage the 'friendship' association was learning to tolerate the many insipid variations of that hackneyed phrase_, "That's what friends are for."_ He wondered if it wouldn't become obnoxious enough for him to seriously reconsider the endeavor entirely.

* * *

He was grateful that the staff-housing corridor was utterly invisible to students. He noticed a few years before that the corridor wasn't even on that blasted Map that Potter had, so apparently even the Fabulous Four had not managed to break that particular security enchantment. He found himself yet again facing the cold, uninviting emptiness that was her door. He rapped twice and stepped back, waiting.

Rowena's appearance was not welcoming when she opened the door, standing in the slight opening to look at him inquiringly. Her eyes seemed red and puffy, and her honeyed complexion was wan and blotchy.

"Professor Snape," she said coolly. "What is it?"

He didn't know if he was more taken aback by her appearance and the distress clearly written there, or by her cold greeting. Not that he deserved anything more, but he had rather expected something a bit less… icy. Moreover, the constant ache in his chest had become a savage, stabbing pain from the instant she opened the door, as though to remind him of all his many faults and mistakes where she was concerned.

"I would like a word, Professor Lupin, if it is not too inconvenient?"

She looked for a moment as though she would merely shut the door in his face, and he wondered if she was feeling anything akin to the pain that he was currently suffering. She stepped aside, though, and allowed the door to swing open enough for him to enter. She turned her back to him and walked to her fire, where she stood rigidly, her arms crossed.

"A word only, then," she said to the fire. "What is it?"

When Remus had told him that she had been distressed in his absence, he had felt that it was imperative that he come and see her as soon as possible. What he thought he might accomplish by the gesture, he couldn't have said. What had seemed like the only possible choice at the time, now seemed like an incredibly bad idea. Was her physical discomfort intensifying by the second, as his was? She was in enough physical pain that she had asked GRANGER to help her research solutions. He'd caused all this, and now thought that perhaps his presence was like pouring vinegar into the wound.

Yet now that he was here, he couldn't just leave. He closed the door and moved with his soundless grace to stand just behind her, almost close enough to feel her warmth. "I've just seen your brother. He mentioned that you were out of sorts during the holiday. I merely wanted to ascertain your condition…"

"_How dare you?_" she hissed, spinning on her heel to face him, her face already damp with tears. "How dare you come here now and pretend to care how I am?"

She made a sound halfway between a scream and a sob and began pounding against his chest with her small fists as though beating down a brick wall.

He was too shocked at first to say or do anything. Then he was too horrified and shamed to try and prevent her from inflicting her rage upon him. Somehow, in between the flailing fists, he recognized that the consuming ache inside him caused by the severed Bond had eased from the moment she first struck him. This caused him to remember the one other time he had experienced significant relief of that ache—when she had hugged him after her brother was healed in the hospital.

He did the only thing that made sense, and opened his arms to pull her close, even as she continued to try and hit him. Those efforts were also becoming more and more ineffectual as she went from raging to sobbing in short order. When his arms enfolded her, she was reduced to fractured, gasping sobs against his chest, her fingers splayed out against him as though she could not decide whether to try to shove him away or claw out his heart.

Nothing was said for a long, long time. Neither moved. He did not even caress her back or make any attempt to soothe; nor any attempt to pull her closer or let her go. He merely held her against him, leaning his chin against her hair, and let her cry as though each tear were precious, able to somehow wash away the pain and mistakes so they could start afresh.

That was not to be, of course.

When she stopped crying, she pushed away from him roughly and he released her instantly. She crossed her arms and flopped into a chair facing the fire. Her breath still came with the occasional shuddering gasp of one that has wept very hard, but her eyes regarded him with flat impassivity.

"I'm fine. Get out."

"Rowena, I would like to discuss this," he said as he sat in the chair opposite.

"Your trip home was difficult," she said, still maintaining her impassivity. Still, he was encouraged that she had neither refused to talk with him nor thrown him out.

"Yes. Exceedingly."

She merely stared at him and made no further overtures to conversation. The Snitch was firmly in his court, and if he did not catch it quickly, it would be gone, perhaps forever.

"I do not require you or Albus or your brother to tell me that I've done a spectacular job of utterly destroying the best thing that has ever happened to me. I've had very little true control in my life, and those times when I did have the option to make a decision wholly on my own, I've shown an uncannily Potter-like ability to make the utterly inappropriate choice."

He stood up and walked to her fireplace, resting his arm on her mantle. It was not encouraging that her enlarged photograph of the Hogwarts landscape in which the boy Severus sat beneath the beech tree was gone from its place of honor over the fire.

"I've never allowed myself to become close to anyone emotionally, Rowena. Not before you, not since my mother died. Even in the case of my mother, for many years before she was killed I was shutting myself off from her. I didn't realize it then, but I do now. Hiding from those emotions, in my belief, was the only way to avoid pain, weakness, manipulation."

He tapped his fingers against the mantle, trying to find words to explain himself, something that might open the door that he had broken.

"If I could do things over, differently, with us, I would not have married you as I did. I must not be the weakness in the Order. I must not allow my feelings for you to endanger you, or me, or to be a tool by which the Dark Lord is able to break me at last. I do not have the same luxuries as any other man.

"I have made horrible choices in the past, done horrible, horrible things. The only way I can begin to make some small reparation for that depravity is through the Order. I cannot do that if I am weak or distracted.

"If I had the chance to do things differently with you, I would take my time. I would appreciate every moment that we might share together—but I would not marry you or Bond with you until I could come to you as a free man, with no ties or obligations to anyone else. You deserve nothing less." He snorted in self-derision. "I suppose it would be accurate to use this as an example of what a bloody mess I make of things when I allow myself to be influenced by my emotions."

He turned away from the mantle then, to look at her, trying to gauge her reaction to what he'd said. Her Occlumency, at least without his wand, had become nearly perfect. He could read nothing of her emotions, though she blinked and looked away quickly.

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," she said dismissively. "What's done is done. You are free of any obligations to me in any case. What use is there in telling me this now?"

"Trust me, Rowena, I know all about the road to Hell," he said dryly. "I would like the opportunity to endeavor to make amends. I don't know if the damage I have done is irreparable, but I would like to find out. One way or the other."

"Do you hear yourself speaking?" she asked with bored exasperation, still staring past his legs into the fire. "You… you… you… you… This is all about what you want and how you feel. You're finally rediscovering your more intense emotions. Bully for you. At what point in this equation do you consider MY feelings? I _loved_ you. I didn't care about the war or danger or any of that. I only wanted to be with you. I didn't even care if you married me, if only I could be with you for whatever time we had. We're in an effing WAR, Severus. Do you think after watching my brother grieve the loss of his friends over and over that I'm ignorant of what happens in a war?

"You wouldn't have married me until you were 'free'. How very touching. So, if you died in your very dangerous dual-role, I suppose I would have been comforted to carry the memory of your 'honor' to my own grave.

"I understand the bit about manipulation… I didn't want to be a weakness to you, either. I'd have been happy to sneak around so that not even Dumbledore knew we were together. We could have discussed options. We're two fairly intelligent people. I would think that we could have come up with viable alternatives.

"But you left me out of the decision making process at almost every turn. Even in your fantasy 'what if' just now, you don't include me; you don't consider any of my thoughts or feelings in the matter.

"I'm not interested in being an obligation or a burden or a weakness. At one time I was exceedingly interested in being an equal partner in good times and bad, sickness and health, all that rot. You may congratulate yourself in finally disabusing me of that romanticism. I thought love could overcome any obstacles. I don't honestly know what I believe anymore. I do know that I was bored and lonely before you came into my life—but I was never this bloody _miserable_."

She finally looked back at him, her brown eyes as flat and dull as her apathetic tone.

"I just don't care, Severus. You do what you want to do—you're going to anyway. I'm not going to try and stop you. I've got to save what little energy I have for Katrina, for my family."

Her apathy terrified him as much as anything he had ever faced. He realized the accuracy of her accusations. In his habitual self-preservation, he had not considered her in the decisions he had made. Even when he thought he was protecting her, he was doing so to protect himself from the pain he would feel if something happened to her.

This was a very convoluted thing, this learning to love someone properly.

Like a true Slytherin, he found the one loophole in her words, and clung to the hope it inspired. She did not care any more what he did, certainly not enough to seek him out or attempt to have any sort of relationship with him. However, she also was too apathetic to refuse to allow him to make the effort.

Severus was used to hopeless battles. In one sense, the hopelessness was a comforting familiarity. To fight a losing battle against overwhelming odds with little chance of success or reward was one thing with which Severus knew how to cope very well.

He moved away from the fire to sit on the sofa on the end nearest her chair.

"You are correct, Rowena. Discussion might have prevented my egregious mistakes. It is impossible to change what has been done. We have no choice but to move on from here."

She was still looking at him with the flat expression, though there was something of wary suspicion in her air. It actually pleased him—suspicion was another thing with which he was very familiar. Suspicion at least roused her from her apathy.

"Did you find anything useful from Miss Granger about the physical discomfort?" he asked.

"No." Unconsciously her hand went to her chest and she rubbed her breastbone as though worrying at a bruise.

"Are you in a great deal of pain?"

She shrugged, the look of suspicion deepening. "It varies. Sometimes worse than others. It was very bad when you first came to the door."

He nodded in understanding. "And now?"

"Why are you asking me this?" she said, the wariness now obvious in her voice as well as her expression.

"I'm doing a bit of research on my own. It was not my intention to cause you pain, Rowena, the road to Hell not withstanding. I am trying to find a solution to provide you relief." He held out his hand to her. "Will you take my hand, just for a moment, for research purposes?"

All apathy for the moment was gone. She was looking at his outstretched hand as though it was a cobra poised to strike. He held perfectly still so as not to startle her, as one might behave with a feral kneazle one is trying to tame. Her eyes flicked back and forth from his face to his hand in distrustful indecision. When she finally laid her much smaller hand in his, he did not close his fingers upon it. He merely arched his fingers so that as much of the skin of their hands was touching as possible, his eyes never leaving her face.

From his perspective, the warm touch of her skin against his seemed like a cool, soothing balm to the burning ache inside his chest that was the severed Bond. It had been a suspicion only, and he did not know if she felt a similar relief.

"And now?" he asked softly, as though her hand in his palm was a wild bird that might take flight at the sound of his voice.

She blinked in surprise as she stared at their two hands. White teeth worried at her lower lip for a moment, and she pulled her hand away almost angrily.

"Lovely. You've won that round," she spat. "You get to cause all the pain and then be the only effective relief of it. You did say you liked to be in control. Congratulations."

He would have smiled had he not been so relieved. Not only was his suspicion correct, but he had succeeded in making her angry. Anger, in his opinion, was far easier to deal with than apathy.

He also decided this was not the time to push the issue. He stood, the motion drawing her attention once again.

"I will endeavor to see if this information can aid in our mutual relief, Professor Lupin. I will keep you informed of the progress of my research. I hope to see you at breakfast. Good evening."

He gave her a very formal bow, and let himself out of her quarters. It was all he could do not to compose a very complicated pop-quiz for his students in his head on the way to his own rooms—the Snape equivalent of whistling cheerfully through the corridors. He had no illusion that things were going to be easy by any means, but for the first time since he'd returned to Hogwarts after Malfoy's dinner party, he thought they might have a chance after all.

It was more than he deserved. He was not going to let it slip away.

* * *

A/N: Poor Severus! I'm extremely pleased with how well the story is flowing now. Elaine, my delightful Beta has Chapter 41. I am roughly guesstimating 55-ish chapters and an epilogue. My outline has 50 chapters, but some of these last ones are ending up broken into two.

Your comments, questions, and reviews mean a great deal to me, thank you so much for the warm response to my 'plea' last chapter! It is wonderful to know you are 'out there'.


	38. Chapter 38: Changing Perspectives

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

This chapter again dedicated to my Niece, Meghan Marie, whom we lost to a drunk driver in December. When you read Katrina's dialog in this story, you are 'hearing' sentiment similar to what Meggie said to my husband many years ago when we were dating and Meghan was about that age. She wanted 'cousins'.

* * *

Chapter 38: Changing Perspectives

* * *

She slept well for the first night… well, since the Malfoy's dinner party she supposed. The nightmares had become less frequent and more manageable when they did occur, but the pain was a constant nuisance and often interfered with her sleep. As she had told Severus, sometimes it was worse than others. While he was gone it had actually decreased, in spite of the frequent bouts of uncontrollable tears. Then, it had been the crying that had kept her awake.

She approached the staff table for breakfast with her usual efficiency, and much improved color for having the benefit of a restful night.

"Good morning, Rowena," Minerva greeted her warmly, "It is good to see you at the staff table again."

"Good morning, Minerva," she gave a small smile in return. "I'm glad to be back."

The dull ache in her chest gave a sudden sharp stab so that she almost gasped aloud. She did not need to turn her head to know who had entered the Hall, or need to hear his chair scrape next to her as he seated himself.

"Severus," Minerva greeted him with a definite chill in comparison to the greeting she had offered Rowena. "I see you have returned from your holiday. It was productive, I hope?"

Only Minerva McGonagall would expect someone to have been "productive" on a Holiday away from the school. Only Severus Snape would have answered with utter indifference after the 'Holiday' he had experienced.

"Adequately," he said. "Professor Lupin, would you pass the scones?"

Rowena looked up from her plate where she had been trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She was annoyed that he would disturb her silent misery, and more so to find that the scones were indeed beyond his reach on the other side of her. She briefly thought to snap something waspish, like, '_you're a wizard, summon them yourself_', but found she just didn't have the energy to bother. She picked up the large platter and turned to him with it.

He steadied the heavy serving plate by placing one of his hands firmly under hers, so that they both held the plate while he selected his pastry. Again she almost gasped, now because of the nearly instant soothing of the ache. Her eyes flew to his face to find him gazing at her intently. His hand gently squeezed hers for the most fleeting of moments before releasing it to allow her to return the plate to the vacant space on the table.

In bemusement she took the opportunity of reaching for the butter to look at him again. His attention seemed utterly riveted in applying jam to his scone, but his inky black lashes twitched ever so slightly as he _winked_ at her. It was an infinitesimal gesture. If she hadn't been sitting right there, she wouldn't have seen it. But she was, and she had.

Severus Snape had _winked_ at her, after sneakily managing to hold her hand without anyone in the crowded hall or gossipy staff table noticing either momentous event.

The pain in her chest being now all but gone left plenty of room for a flock of butterflies to move in, though they settled uncomfortably in her stomach instead. Conversation flowed around her but she couldn't follow any of it for the confusing thoughts and feelings in her head. Severus was involved in a rather animated discussion with Hagrid over the advisability of using certain potions to prevent mange and repel fleas in Unicorns. Both men were in their element, so that much of the table was listening with various levels of amusement. Rowena didn't follow the subject at all, she merely allowed herself to listen to the melodious voice of the man sitting next to her.

When she at last realized, to her horror, that one surreptitious touch and even sneakier wink had her behaving like a love-struck schoolgirl _AGAIN_ over the same man who had caused all her trouble to begin with, she forced herself to stop listening. Instead she turned to Flitwick to converse over the newest issue of 'Charms Today' until her meal was done and she could escape the Hall without rousing attention.

Her reprieve, however, was brief. In the following weeks she came to feel as though she was being stalked; slowly being gently herded toward a dead-end gully from which there would be no escape. Each meal followed a similar pattern. Surreptitious touches and looks. There was plenty of conversation that either included her or not as she desired, yet never singled her out. He would stop by her classroom when he knew that no one was likely to be present, with some sort of reasonable excuse such as dropping off or retrieving books that someone wanted exchanged with her.

Severus Snape, the man who did not allow anyone to touch him if he could at all prevent it, became the master of casual touches, yet the most diligent observer would have been hard pressed to catch a glimpse of any of them.

Rowena did not need to be a diligent observer, as she was the recipient of every 'accidental' caress. Moreover, to her dismay, she had to admit (at least in secret to herself) that it did help. Something in the physical contact soothed the ache of the broken Bond. It never was completely gone, and sometimes it still twinged horribly, but it was far more manageable now than it had been so far.

She couldn't even convince herself that he was doing this for no other reason than to ease his own discomfort. He never failed to attempt to catch her eye when he did this, so that she was left in no doubt, ever, that every touch was intentional. When she allowed the eye contact, she sometimes feared she would drown in the warmth she could see in the inky black depths.

He was the hunter. She was the prey. The apathy was being slowly eroded away, no matter how hard she tried to cling to it for the sense of safety it afforded her. Yet the rest of the staff, even Dumbledore, continued to treat Severus with a slight amount of annoyed reserve, while treating Rowena with almost exaggerated solicitousness. He seemed to be succeeding at paying her the extra attention without any of their colleagues being any the wiser.

* * *

There were a few slight glitches in the wedding plans of Tonks and Remus. Firstly, Severus outright refused to wear anything but black, which made Tonks all but beg Remus to choose someone else to stand up with him. Remus, being the obliging and besotted fiancé that he was, agreed at once, to the relief of both Snape and Tonks—until he said he would ask Alastor Moody, the only other person that he felt would be appropriate. Tonks liked Moody well enough, but he had been in charge of much of her Auror training, and she found him more intimidating than Severus. In the end, she decided to alter her desired color scheme to allow Harry and Snape to wear black, though she would put Remus in a lovely royal blue that would be very suited to him.

Snape, through all this, was forced to slightly revise his opinion of Remus yet again. It seemed Slytherins weren't the only ones who knew how to get a situation to end to their advantage. Remus just managed to appear friendly and obliging in the process. Severus found it a useful lesson.

Secondly, sometime during his absence over the Easter Holiday, Dumbledore had inducted the Cowboy into the Order. Dylan Howard had somehow managed to convince the Headmaster of his sincerity and trustworthiness. Not that getting Albus to trust was particularly difficult. Snape really didn't care overall who was brought into the bloody Order. The decision was not his to make, and he trusted the Headmaster's judgement, mostly.

What he did care about was that this development meant that the annoying git would be at the blasted wedding. There was a limit to the amount of obnoxious joy he could tolerate at any given time, and Albus usually managed to provide the quota in and of himself in situations like these. Severus could not imagine that the Cowboy would not increase that intolerably.

Thirdly, and more concerning to everyone but Severus himself, he was Summoned near the end of April.

* * *

Rowena paced her office, her hand over her chest, the pain stabbing at her, as it hadn't done in days. She was not where she wanted to be. Even in her uncertainty over all things dealing with Severus Snape, she wanted to go to the hospital wing, to be there when he returned. She could see the folly in that, however. If he was trying to help them find some new way to interact without anyone knowing, it would not do for her to ruin the subterfuge now.

Even if she no longer had any idea what _she_ wanted.

The pain in her chest reached a fever pitch, rising to such a crescendo that she thought she might be ill. She was no longer able to pace, but simply sat in her chair at her desk, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, rocking nervously. She may have slept or perhaps merely became so lost in her thoughts that the passage of time eluded her.

"Professor Lupin, I wondered if you might be working late this evening," Severus's deep voice roused her from her semi-conscious state so that her eyes flew open to look at him critically, hungrily. He looked so pale that his skin seemed almost translucent, with dark purple circles under his eyes. "I was up late myself and found this research article that might be pertinent to your current lessons. I thought to bring it to you before I forgot about it."

He spoke this nonsense and nothingness while the door was open, walking with his usual brisk strides, back straight, shoulders squared. As soon as the soft click of the door indicated it was sealed against outside observation, he seemed to wilt before her eyes. He approached her desk and looked at her impassively, apparently uncertain of his welcome. He was not in any condition to play his current game of gentle cat and mouse.

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital wing?" she asked worriedly, all apathy gone for the moment as she looked at him standing there, trying to conceal his fatigue by casually leaning against her desk.

"I am uninjured," he said. It seemed it was now his turn to watch her warily. It was hard for him to admit any level of 'need' for another human being in any circumstance. His vulnerability made him irritable. "It was merely a pleasant little chat between Master and Slave. I have no need of the hospital wing."

She stood and moved around the desk so that she could be closer to him. She knew what he needed, because it was what she needed as well. She held out her hand to him, much as he had done that first night after his return from the Easter holiday, gentle and unthreatening. He regarded it with the same wary uncertainty as she had done then. Rejection now, for both of them, seemed to be the greatest fear, learning to trust again the greatest hurdle.

A sigh of relief filled the room when their hands touched. Whether it was hers or his or the combination of both, neither could have said. Nor could they have said who instigated what occurred next, only that both needed it as much as to draw their next breath. In a timeless instant they came together so that her arms were wrapped around his neck as she stood on tiptoe to reach. His arms wound tightly about her waist to hold her against him, lifting her slightly so that her toes barely touched the ground. He buried his face into her hair; she rubbed the smooth skin of her cheek against the rough stubble of his.

The pain was eased, instantly. Fear turned to relief. Relief turned to comfort. Comfort turned to awareness. Sometime in the minutes that he held her, her body seemed to come to life again. It felt as though her skin had been numb, asleep for months, a lifeless covering for her insides, and now was suddenly awake again. She could feel his breath in her hair and remembered what it felt like, hot and moist against the skin of her neck. She could feel the heat of his hands on her back through her robes, and remembered what it felt like for them to play across her bare flesh.

Perhaps something similar was occurring for him as well, because he gently returned her to her feet and moved away. His color had improved; his skin no longer looked so pale and waxy, even though the dark circles remained beneath his eyes.

He smiled at her softly, almost wistfully, and caressed the side of her face, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, Rowena," he said, the gentle silken tones of his voice sending a long-forgotten shiver up her spine. "I needed to be with you a moment. Thank you for allowing me, accepting me."

She thought he was going to kiss her, and while her body yearned for it, her mind recoiled, almost panic-stricken, not yet ready to accept that level of intimacy with him again. Whether he really had intended to kiss her, she didn't know. Perhaps he read the uncertainty in her eyes and changed his mind. He made no attempt to move closer or touch her again.

She didn't know how to acknowledge his gratitude—something that he would never have been able to state before. She merely nodded mutely.

"I must go and report to Albus. He will be expecting me. Good night."

She watched him leave with his usual stealthy grace and then went to her quarters as soon as he was gone. There was almost no pain to keep her awake, but her mind had too much to consider. Sleep was elusive and when it finally came it was filled with restless dreams that were not wholly unpleasant.

* * *

"I expect I'll be Called again more often now, in addition to the necessary absences to perform the task." Severus sat in 'his' window-seat in Albus's office. His back leaned against one side of the alcove; his long, thin legs pulled up as his feet rested against the other, his arms draped lazily over his knees. He stared out the window into the starry night as he spoke to the Headmaster.

Albus sat in his comfortable over-stuffed chair, his fingers intertwined in his lap, his blue eyes clouded with worry.

"You did say that you were expecting this. Are you surprised that it has come now?" Albus asked.

"No. Not surprised; resigned. Apparently He did not find any of the other Potions Masters He tested up to the task," Severus said with a disdainful wave of his hand. "I knew He would not. The formulations were mine. I would have been greatly mistaken in the evaluation of my own skill if He had found any others capable of it. The problem now lies in the fact that He does not trust me. He needs what only I can provide, yet He does not trust me to provide it. I expect to be called often, and tested. Repeatedly.

"The brewing will take months. It won't be ready for consumption before September at best. He wishes to perform the ceremony on Halloween, of course," Severus snorted in derision.

"That's six months away," Albus said with a mixture of relief and concern. They'd have more time to work with Harry, more than even he had dared hope. Yet also more time for things to go horribly wrong, and for Severus to bear his great burden of secrecy. "Tested how, precisely?"

Severus leaned forward to lean his forehead against one hand, long fingers massaging the bridge of his nose.

"The usual," he sighed, his heavy tones and weary actions making it clear that he was not so imperturbable as he wished to be believed. "My presence will no longer be completely excused from raids, or the games after. I will have to show how joyously I revel in the promise of purifying the Wizarding Race. I would rather not go into detail.

"You may no longer rely on me for the safety of any Order Members, Albus, not if you wish the ultimate goal to succeed. I will of course continue to keep you informed. However, it would not do to further this cause if any more of your known allies suddenly return miraculously from the dead."

"As Remus has done. Very well, Severus," Albus said, his worry deepening. He knew of what 'games' Severus spoke, and had a better idea than most what that sort of activity would cost the young man.

"By the same token, I would appreciate knowing as little as possible of Order activities," Severus said. He did not expect to be 'broken'. He had honed his skills well and endured much without breaking confidence on repeated occasions. Still, it was safer for all involved for him to know as little as possible now that the situation was escalating.

"It would be useful if you and yours appeared to heighten your distrust of me. He knows Remus lives, and of the intended nuptials, because I told him, so that ought to give you a starting point. I have been 'ordered' to attempt to ensure my invitation to the event. I thought it wise to permit that to be His idea rather than something to be learned of later."

"Understood. I've already made preparations to intensify security here for the celebration." Albus's expression remained tense with worry. "Be careful, Severus. Do what you need to do. I will do anything I can to aid you."

Severus shrugged and leaned his head back against the wall behind him. "There's little that can be done to aid me, Headmaster. I simply must not fail. I can afford no weakness."

Albus wisely decided that this was not the time to discuss his philosophy of love and the human condition. Instead, discussion turned to stratagems and tactics so that it was several hours before Severus made his exhausted way to his own bed at last.

* * *

The following Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend, so that he had none of his N.E.W.T. students in his lab. It was an ideal time for him to begin gathering and cataloging the ingredients he would need. His door stood ajar, as he was required to maintain a certain number of 'office hours' each week for students to come with questions or requests for assistance in regards to his class. However, he did not keep a particular schedule of hours, and generally left his door open during those periods when he knew he was least likely to actually be bothered by any students. There were very few that would dare to seek him out for such matters in any case.

The small golden-haired creature that stormed into the lab with all the fury of an angry Doxy took him entirely by surprise, and his first reaction was concern. He quickly closed the cabinet doors out of which he had been gathering dangerous ingredients and went over to her.

"Katrina, what's wrong?"

"Uncle Remus askted me if he and Tonks could 'dopt me after they get weddinged," she said, blue eyes flashing at him furiously. "He wants to be my new daddy. He can't be my new daddy, 'cause YOU are gonna be my new daddy, right?"

Severus's heart sank right to his toes. He had assumed that Rowena would have explained things to the child, but now realized that she had left that task up to him. He also had a sharp surge of anger at the thought that Lupin would ask the child such a thing without talking with him about it first! There was also the painful realization that as a married couple, Lupin and Tonks would have a reasonable chance of their application succeeding, depending on the Ministry's ever-changing regulations on the lycanthrope population.

It was only then that he realized that in spite of all of his protestations to the contrary; he had already considered himself as her 'rightful' father for quite some time. The knowledge that that relationship could never be was excruciating.

"Katrina, things don't always work the way we expect them to," he said, kneeling down to her level to look her in the eye. The resemblance to Rowena, in the stubborn set of her tiny chin was alarming, and he wondered vaguely if it was possible to 'inherit' such traits from someone who was not a biological relation.

"That's stupid," she said, stamping her foot angrily, tears now sparkling in those vivid blue eyes.

He sighed and picked her up. He waved his wand to close and seal his door, and carried her to his chair where he could hold her on his lap and attempt to have this conversation in relative comfort.

It galled Severus to think that his opinions had altered dramatically enough in the course of the past year, that he now genuinely considered _Remus Lupin_, the _werewolf_ to be an adequate adoptive parent for Katrina. Then again, a year ago, he would not have believed he was capable of loving a child so much that he would be willing to do anything to ensure her safety.

"I can't be your daddy, because I am not married. The people who decide who gets to be your new family believe children ought to have a mummy and a daddy. Remus and Tonks will be able to give you that, do you see?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at him as though he were as obtuse as Neville Longbottom, her voice thick with the three-and-a-half-year-old equivalent of scathing sarcasm.

"But when you get weddinged with Rowena, then I will get a mummy and a daddy with YOU. And then you can go to the hopstal and get me a new baby brother or sister 'cause my old one got deaded. And then we will be a real fam'ly like everybody else. See? Why do grownups have to make stuff so stupid?"

He closed his eyes painfully and pulled her close so that he could rest his chin on her golden curls. How did one argue with the innocent logic of a child? She clearly had given the situation far more thought than he had given her credit for. He also felt a pang of kindred sympathy to know that she remembered the baby brother that had been murdered. He had seen images of her family in her mind of course, when he first saw her in the hospital all those months ago. But she had been so young; he had hoped that she would forget that trauma in time.

He should have known that some things are never forgotten.

It would be a cruelty to continue to allow her to hope for something that was so completely unlikely. He didn't share Lupin's optimism that he and Rowena would ever mend their relationship enough to marry again. He thought he was reaching for the stars to hope that they might develop something of a comfortable friendship. Adopting Katrina seemed as likely as adopting Potter, though admittedly far more desirable.

"Poppet, Rowena and I are not going to get married. We thought we were going to, but we're not anymore. Sometimes that happens with grown-ups. We would like to be your parents, but we can't. If your Uncle Remus and Tonks adopt you, we will still get to see each other very often. We won't be going away, and you will get to have a family, just with them rather than us."

"NO!" She shoved hard against his chest so that she could glare daggers up at him. "Why aren't you going to wedding my Rowena? That's the dumbest thing I ever heard. That's not how it's s'posed to work. You love her and me, and I love her and you, and she loves you and me—see? We all love each other, and that makes a family."

The unspoken "_Duh_!" all but dripped from her tone and expression.

Some part of his mind could not truly believe he was having this personal conversation with a three-year-old. ("Three and a _HALF"_, she would remind him if he called her 'three' aloud.) It was sorely tempting to brush her off with a 'why don't you ask Rowena to explain it' and thereby get himself off the hook. However, he had felt an incredible connection with this child almost from the moment he first saw her. He was not going to betray that now.

"Sometimes things don't work the way they are supposed to. I made a very bad mistake, and Rowena doesn't want to marry me anymore. She still loves you very much." He swallowed hard, barely able to articulate the words that he knew she needed to hear and he needed to say. "I still love you very much."

He was vaguely astonished that a cataclysm did not occur on the spot from the act of Hell Freezing Over, as he had rather thought might happen if he ever said such a thing aloud, to anyone. He was actually surprised how easy it had been to say.

"My mistake doesn't change any of that. It just means that Rowena and I will not be getting married, so we can't adopt you. I wish it could be different, but that's the way it is."

She was frowning at him as he spoke, listening with undisguised doubt. She sighed and shook her head; clearly unable to believe anyone could be so dense.

"You're a teacher, right? I thought you were s'posed to be so smart," she said. "If you're so smart, how come you don't know how to fix a askident? When you make a m'stake, you have to 'pologize—that means you say you're sorry—then it's all better."

He wiped his hand across his face in a gesture of fatigue, not so much physical, but intellectual, as he tried to find both words and patience to help her to understand. She slid down off his lap and regarded him as though she was the 'wise' teacher and he was the wayward child.

"You hafta tell Rowena sorry. Then you can get weddinged and 'dopt me, and everything will be all fixed, just like it's s'posed to be. I hafta go. Harry's gonna let me open the Quidditch box and make the balls all fly out. I'll tell Uncle Remus everything's all fixed. Bye!"

With the speed of a Snitch, she had skipped out of the room, golden curls flouncing, clearly pleased with herself for setting her world to rights. He didn't even manage to find his voice in time to call after her. He flopped back into his chair with an expression of bemusement.

He had to admit, at least to himself, that life would be a great deal easier if it was truly as simple as it appeared from the perspective of a child.

* * *

A/N: I am going to follow suit of some of my favorite fanfic authors and leave my notes in my Live Journal account for the various chapters from now on, rather than interrupting your reading experience with my comments and rationales for certain things related to the chapters. If you are interested, anyone can read my journal. I am 'weasleyfan' at 


	39. Chapter 39: Trials and Tribulations

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Author's Notes and answers to questions/comments left in reviews can now be found in my LiveJournal account so as not to disrupt the flow of the story for the reader. I am weasleyfan at and anyone may read my journal, though one must be logged-in to leave a comment there.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

* * *

Chapter 39: Trials and Tribulations

* * *

There was little time to worry over perspectives, child-like or otherwise, in the weeks which followed Katrina's 'solution' to _her_ most pressing concerns. The school was a-bustle with wedding preparations, even though they were intended to be secret, no different than all such 'secrets' at Hogwarts.

Severus continued his attentions to Rowena, and even managed one amicable game of chess and a few stolen half-hours of conversation in her office or his. They were both discreet enough that they had been unseen by anyone else.

Most of his 'spare' time, however, was spent in secretive brewing away from the castle. He was often gone from evening and weekend meals, and had not overseen any detentions since before Easter. He rarely needed attention from Poppy Pomfrey, though he did occasionally submit to Rowena's charm to soothe Cruciatus damage.

She was still wary and aloof with him, but she smiled occasionally in his presence, and even attempted something of the teasing banter of friendship. It was by no means a relaxed relationship, but it was something, and as near as he could tell, no one knew of it, not even Katrina, who remained annoyed that he hadn't figured out how to "pologize" properly yet.

Rowena was not surprised at Remus's offer to adopt the little girl. Katrina had become very much a part of the family, and all of the Lupins would be devastated if strangers adopted her. It seemed a viable alternative, though she and Severus decided it was best to let Katrina get used to the idea gradually.

Severus stopped returning to Hogwarts via his Portkey to the hospital wing. His attendance at Order Meetings became sporadic. Dumbledore tightened security and began to imply that he thought there was a leak in their ranks. He deliberately avoided discussing the more sensitive topics at those meetings that Severus attended.

Personal uncertainty and apathy aside, Rowena was incensed at what she viewed as Albus's betrayal of Severus just when Severus needed the votes of confidence the most. She was also concerned that the reason Severus no longer Portkeyed to the hospital wing was that perhaps Albus had not reactivated his device.

Harry's angry accusations after a particularly intense Occlumency Lesson did nothing to assuage her worries.

* * *

"Harry, I really think you should speak with the Headmaster about training with someone else," she said tiredly as she rubbed her aching temples. "You haven't learned anything new from me in ages, and I'm not strong enough to give you any genuine test of your skills."

"No," he said sulkily as he sat down in the chair opposite her. He had grown considerably over the year so that his lanky limbs sprawled like a newborn colt's. "Dumbledore will just want me to work with Snape, and there's no way I'm doing that again. Especially not now."

Something in his tone piqued her interest and she looked up, ignoring her headache. "Why especially not now?"

"C'mon. I know you've noticed it. He's always been a git, but lately he's a thousand times worse. Even Dumbledore doesn't trust him all the way anymore. The worst thing is that Voldemort trusts him more."

"Harry James Potter," she snapped, shocked and angry, "You weren't supposed to DO that anymore! If you're in You-Know-Who's thoughts, He could be making you see and believe whatever He wants you to. You have no way of knowing what's true or not. You can't be certain He doesn't use that opportunity to seek information from _you_. The Headmaster has trusted you and you are betraying that trust!"

"Yeah? Well, no one tells me anything," Harry said angrily. "At least when I'm seeing Voldemort's thoughts, I have an idea of what's going on. You know what He's doing? He's got Snape brewing him some sort of potion so he can be immortal again. Well, not immortal I suppose, since there's no Philosopher's Stone anymore; but whatever it was that Snape did for him before. Whatever Voldemort used so that he didn't die when his curse on me rebounded. Did you know Snape was the one who did that before? Snape is the reason Voldemort didn't die all the way when he tried to kill me the first time, and now he's doing it again.

"I'm supposed to kill Voldemort, supposed to be the bloody savior of the wizarding world, and here's Snape spending hours over a stinking cauldron to do everything he can to make sure that doesn't happen. There's no way I'm getting any nearer to that git than I have to."

"Harry, I won't do these lessons with you anymore," she said decisively. She stood and walked to her door, opening it brusquely and gesturing for him to leave. "I will be informing Albus Dumbledore that you have continued to do the exact opposite of what you've been instructed to do. I sincerely hope he's able to put you to work with someone who can get through to you. If you continue to be this reckless and defiant to everyone who's trying to help you, I don't see how you can possibly survive the outcome of this war, even if you never have to face You-Know-Who again.

"Please leave."

Her heart was pounding anxiously in her chest as she tried to assimilate what she had been told. Harry scowled at her as he left, and said nothing more. As soon as he was gone, she went through her private doors to the staff corridor and down to the dungeons. She needed to speak with Severus.

Unfortunately, he was not in the dungeons. Distractedly, she wandered the castle, looking for him in all the likely places. She didn't inquire after him to any of the teachers she encountered. She didn't want to draw notice to the fact that she was looking for him, or even cared where he was. After the better part of an hour, she had to admit he was not in the building.

The severed Bond had become little more than a constant dull ache after weeks of his subtle attentions. It still had moments of intensity, but they were becoming fewer and farther between. However, it was also by no means healed, and she could not 'feel' him through it as she had once been able to do. Moreover, it had been quite uncomfortable all evening, which only increased her concern.

A small traitorous part of her mind reminded her that Hermione's research on the Bond did mention the possibility of various detrimental effects to the mental, emotional, and magical stability of the individuals involved in a breaking, from the few cases that had been documented. She had never doubted Severus's motivations before now, but her inner turmoil caused her to doubt her own judgement. Was the broken Bond affecting it? Or perhaps it was affecting his ability to resist the lure of the addiction? Didn't he once tell her that Dark Magic was like an addiction from which he would never be wholly free?

She needed to see him. She felt somehow that she would be able to tell the truth of the matter if she could just _see_ him. Unable to find him in the castle, her restlessness would not allow her to fret and wait back in her quarters. Instead she walked outside and paced through the grounds with brisk energy. The spring evening was warm and clear, and still well lit by the vibrant glowing colors of the setting sun.

However, the last fading streaks of pink and violet trailed across the darkening sky like fingers trying to catch the stars, when at last she saw a dark-cloaked figure walk painfully through the gates that led from Hogsmeade. She ran across the grounds to meet him, though she didn't call out to draw his attention. She didn't need the sharp stab of the Bond to recognize his stride, even at a distance.

He was staying to the shadows of the forest, clearly trying to remain unseen. Before she reached him, he leaned heavily against a tree and wretched violently, repeatedly, vomiting into the shrubbery at the base of the tree. She ran faster, withdrawing her wand and lighting it softly so that she could see the extent of his injuries.

"_Lumos._ Severus? It's me… let me help you," she whispered softly when she was near enough to see him. She got only the briefest glimpse of a blood-soaked cloak when he waved his own wand at her.

"_Nox!_" he hissed, and her lit wand went out. His voice snarled at her from the darkness, "If you wish to help me, leave me alone!"

"You're hurt! You're sick! The blood! You need help!" She tried to move closer to him but he recoiled further into the shadows.

"By the gods, woman, _leave me alone_," he spat. Then, seeing that she was still advancing toward his location he groaned almost helplessly, like a wounded animal. "Rowena… please. I'm not… It's not… the blood is not mine. I do not wish to discuss it. Just… go."

She froze where she stood and tried to peer at him through the dark shadows of the trees. His cloak seemed to absorb what little light there was, so that he appeared to be a thing of shadows himself.

His Death Eater cloak. Blood that was not his. Harry's ugly accusations and suspicions. Dumbledore's apparent distrust. It seemed that either he was being forced somehow into a deeper level of subterfuge than before, or he truly had betrayed them. There were shades of gray within either of those options as well, of course, but she had never experienced distrust of him so starkly before. It was as though an utter stranger stood before her. Dark and dangerous, covered in the gore of some unknown crime and trying to sneak unnoticed back inside the school.

Who was this man? Had she really once trusted him so implicitly? Even after knowing he was capable of murder in the past, had seen him do it before her very eyes, and knew he would be capable of it again?

As though he could read her thoughts more clearly than he had been able to in months, his silken tones reverberated from the depths of the shadows. His voice lost all trace of the distress of a moment before. Instead, it sounded almost lazy, triumphant.

"I am a Death Eater, Lupin," he said smoothly. "Need you any more confirmation?"

She caught the slightest glimpse of what she knew was his wand arm raising amidst the twisted shadows of the trees, and without another word, she turned on her heel and fled.

* * *

He used secret tunnels and passageways that few knew besides himself, many of which had altered so much since the time of the blasted Marauder's Map that even Potter and his friends would be hard pressed to find them. It was sufficient to get him to the solitude of his quarters unseen by anyone else. It was awful enough that he had already been seen by the one person that he felt least prepared to face.

Tonight had been a 'test'; one of the worst that he had yet been forced to endure. He had thought to merely work on the potion and return, but he knew by now never to expect anything so peaceful where the Dark Lord was concerned. He thought he was prepared to face and ignore whatever amusement occurred.

How wrong he was.

Lucius obtained the entertainment for the evening, but their Lord added a cruel twist to the game. One of the Dark Lord's other Potions Masters had assisted in the preparations.

The situation itself was nothing new. He would enter the room, intent on nothing but the potion. His fellow Death Eaters would revel in rape and murder and all manner of depravity in the room about him. Severus had the ability to focus very intently on his work. He had never been interested in gore for the sake of gore, even at the height of his Death Eater career. Gore for the sake of rare or valuable potion ingredients, perhaps, or for the sake of very deserved revenge as in the case of his father, of course. But not just as a source of amusement. Subtlety and precision were his trademarks of a sort, then and now.

This pattern had not changed, though it perhaps had intensified slightly with Severus's recent 'return to the fold' for the recreation of the potion. The others had always attempted to draw him into participation, or at least to ruffle his unflappable calm, as one more facet of their entertainment.

This stoicism was tested to new heights this evening. For Severus's benefit, the muggle women obtained for the 'games' were all forced to drink a draught of Polyjuice Potion.

Rowena.

_Half-dozen muggle women who were exact replicas of Rowena were herded inside in a terrified, naked mass. The Dark Lord assumed his throne-like chair in one corner of the room and watched. The other Death Eaters set upon the 'sport' like starved, rabid dogs might massacre a chicken coop. Occasionally someone would call to Severus, or attempt to 'play' near where he worked, trying to distract him. He never lifted his eyes from the potion, unless to arch a disdainful brow implacably and then return to his work_.

Pettigrew the Rat had been in Hogsmeade and the surrounding area far more than Severus had been aware of up until now. The work on building up Hogsmeade and securing it was by no means complete or perfect. It was simply too large of an area to be able to secure completely. Severus had known, through his familiar, that the Rat had been about the grounds on occasion, but he had not been able to breach Hogwarts itself.

However, Rowena had spent considerable time lately away from Hogwarts, with Katrina and her parents in Hogsmeade. She'd chaffed at the restriction that the Headmaster had imposed upon her—that she not leave the area of Hogwarts or Hogsmeade without Order escort. Now the reason for that security was being plainly demonstrated for Severus's benefit; and proven to be laughably inadequate.

She had been heavily involved in the warding project when construction first began. It would hardly have been difficult for the Animagus to follow her about until he had obtained the desired object. With her long hair, it would only have been a matter of time before it snagged on something or even shed a strand as she took off her cloak to hang it in The Three Broomsticks when she had lunch. Any number of ways the vile creature could have obtained it. How he had gotten it was not so important at the moment as that he HAD gotten it.

Bile rose again in Severus's throat as he tried to savagely squash the memory of the images, the screams, and the blood.

_He was not expected to participate. He maintained his utter impassivity throughout the necessary time to complete the evening's sequence of ingredients and manipulations to the concoction. When he'd finished, he took his leave of his Master with the appropriate obeisance and slowly made his way across the blood-spattered room._

_It was Bellatrix who stopped him. Bellatrix, who's loyalty to the Dark Lord was a fanaticism that had long since passed the bridge of sanity and who therefore trusted no one else to properly 'love' their Master. She held one of the women backward in her arms, so that the woman's back was to Bella's front. Bella was much taller than Rowena, so that her twisted, evil smile was clearly visible as she toyed with the honey-brown hair and caressed a pale, spidery hand across the naked torso. The muggle woman was clearly in shock, the huge doe-eyes wide and unfocused, blood trickling from a dozen wounds from various whips and knives that seemed part of these sorts of games. Bella's fingers toyed in the blood as a child might play with finger-paint._

"_Severus, darling. Surely you weren't going to leave without a goodbye kiss?" Bella's evil cackle was clearly audible even over the other sounds in the room. She shoved the woman at him, forcefully, so that the replica stumbled and instinctively reached out, grabbing onto him to keep from falling. He put his arms out to steady her, and also to hold her away from him, not wanting to be close to the doomed doppelganger. Familiar brown eyes looked up in him in shock and terror._

_From just behind the woman, Bellatrix pulled a knife seemingly from nowhere and slit "Rowena's" throat carelessly, like a hot knife through butter. The replica slumped at once so that her limp body fell against him; hot blood pouring in a violent gush from her throat to drench his robes in the crimson flood._

It was over in an instant, but he could still see the look on the dying woman's face and hear Bella's laughter ringing in his ears.

_He managed to merely raise an indifferent brow at Bella as he let the body slide carelessly to the floor. "I see you have still not acquired anything of delicacy or skill, Lestrange," he had said in bored tones. He stepped over the body at his feet and exited the building._

He vomited a dozen times or more between the Hogsmeade apparition point and the Hogwarts grounds where Rowena… the real Rowena, alive and unhurt… came upon him and saw him drenched in 'her' blood. He had no control of his emotions at that moment, and worried that the exchange might have ruined all. If Pettigrew had gotten close enough to obtain hair for the Polyjuice, (and Severus desperately hoped that he had only gotten _hair_) he likely had traversed the forest frequently. It was possible that he could have witnessed the encounter with Rowena.

Severus was certain that the flash of terror in her eyes that he saw just before she ran away would haunt him for the rest of his days.

* * *

The heat of the shower was almost scalding and he scrubbed mercilessly at his skin as though to try and wash away the taint of what he had seen and done, tonight and all the many nights similar to it before. Even Albus Dumbledore had no ability to fully grasp the true horrors that he had witnessed in his life. Each time there was an incident like this it seemed to force him to relive the memories of all the previous ones as well.

Only when physical exhaustion threatened to cause him to fall asleep on his feet did he get out of the shower and put on clean robes. His intent was to have a stiff drink or perhaps Dreamless Sleep potion before going to bed. He went first to his fire with the ruined cloak wadded in his hand and threw it into the flames. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, he had several spares. He watched a moment as the cleansing fire consumed the bloody fabric, wishing the images in his mind could be cauterized away as easily.

It wasn't until he turned back to head to his cupboards for the drink that he realized the problem with his prior plan. There was someone already standing in his kitchenette, retrieving two glasses and his finest Cognac.

"I'd be pretty bad at my job if I couldn't manage to get through your wards, Severus. Particularly since you didn't seem too determined to keep me out. Ask Flitwick to help you next time if you really don't want me to get in here."

She chattered nervously as she poured the drinks, apparently determined not to let him speak. Her hands trembled so that the bottle rattled noisily against the rim of the glasses as she poured.

"You don't want to talk about it; I won't ask. I'm not sure what's going on, and I'm pretty sure that I'm happier not knowing. But I also don't believe a true Death Eater vomits his guts up over a bit of blood, nor warns people off rather than hexing, killing, or at least Oblivating.

"So. Apparently I am able to come to terms with the idea of Severus Snape the complete bastard, but I just haven't yet bought into Severus Snape the evil Death Eater."

She looked up at him at last, uncertainly. Was he going to rage at her? Throw her out? He was staring at her as though he had never really seen her before, advancing on her with an inscrutable expression on his face. She reached for the drinks as he came near, but he grabbed her wrist in an almost vise-like grasp. He didn't say a word, but pulled her to him in a bone-crushing embrace that took her breath completely away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stroked her hand through his still-damp hair soothingly, somewhat frightened at his intensity.

"Severus? Are you okay?" she asked softly against his ear.

He chuffed a sound that might have been a choked laugh or a suppressed sob, but seemed unable or unwilling to speak. His body was rigid, each breath tightly controlled so that she thought he might actually be crying, or perhaps trying hard not to. There was nothing of underlying tenderness or reawakening desire in the embrace. It was a thing of distress and misery, as though he was clinging to her as his only lifeline in a raging storm—as perhaps she was.

After a long, long time standing there, he finally loosened his grasp, though it was by slow and reluctant stages. He turned away and rubbed a hand tiredly across his face before handing her one of the glasses and moving over to his sofa. She followed and sat next to him, watching him in worried silence.

"You should not be here; you should not have come," he said at last.

"We're not going to get very far on this 'trying to be friends' thing if you start every conversation by telling me I should go away, Severus," she chided, smiling softly.

He smirked and nodded his agreement. "True, but then so is the admonishment. I do care for your safety."

"I know. Once I was back inside and had time to think it through, I realized that's why you acted that way earlier tonight, on the grounds. That was when I realized you'd done that on purpose. If it makes you feel any better, I was genuinely frightened, out there."

He snorted. "Do you realize how twisted that is? That you should think that I would be _pleased_ that you were sincerely terrified of me?" he asked, incredulously.

"It's not twisted at all," she teased gently. "You are Head of Slytherin House, which by definition means that you ought to have a great deal of ambition and pride in your work. You should feel better to know that you succeeded so admirably in what you set out to do."

Her teasing smile faded to a look of concern as his scowl deepened. She reached out to touch his hand, and realized that she wasn't feeling the pain of the severed Bond at all at the moment, not since he'd held her.

"Severus, really… are you okay?"

He took her offered hand in his and looked at it, playing his fingers through hers as though examining an unusual potion ingredient, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh, no, Rowena. I am most definitely not 'okay'. I am uncertain that I know what 'okay' feels like." He glanced up at her and shook his head. "Do not look so worried. I am physically uninjured. Slytherins know how to save our skins, just as Moody has always said."

He gazed at her face, hungrily, the exact replica of the faces which had died all around him tonight. No, the original of which those others were replicas, yet he knew he would be tormented by those images for a long, long time to come.

"In spite of my warnings to the contrary, I am glad to see you, to know that somehow you have not utterly given up on me, even now."

She shrugged off the gratitude with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

"I care about you and what happens to you. I can't really imagine what could possibly change that. It'd be a very poor show of friendship if I gave up on you when things were difficult."

He didn't have a ready answer for that. It was disturbing how often lately that he had found himself speechless. Some of his inner turmoil was mollified to a great degree by hearing her speak so casually of friendship. He had never needed it more.

He released her hand to reach out and grasp a lock of her hair that had slipped out of her braid. He rubbed it through his fingers even as his gaze never left hers.

"The war is escalating, Rowena. There is danger everywhere, even here in this very castle. Peter Pettigrew obtained samples of your hair. Can you imagine what might be done with that? What would Tonks willingly say to you if she thought she bumped into you on the street? What if Katrina saw you outside the edge of the Hogsmeade wards and went running up to you?"

_What if Death Eaters raped and murdered six of your duplicates all around me so that I can still hear 'your' screams and smell 'your' blood?_

"Oh my God!" she gasped. Her eyes widened in horror as she contemplated the implications of what he said. "How?"

He smirked at the question. "How? How many hairs a day do human beings loose? A strand on your cloak, maybe you snagged the end of your braid somewhere without even knowing it, it wouldn't take much, Rowena. I am not even certain it was Pettigrew. Draco is in your class. You have many children of Death Eaters in your class. I assure you, there is no one in this school for whom the Dark Lord could not obtain a single strand of hair.

"You must not even trust ME, Rowena, do you see? When you first saw me on the grounds, I could have been anyone. How can you be certain of who I am? You need to be afraid, to be on your guard more than you ever have before."

She shook her head in denial. "No, not you," she said firmly. "I would know it was you right away, wouldn't I? A Polyjuice potion can't mimic this, can it?"

Her hand rubbed across her chest indicating the remnants of the Bond. It was broken and dysfunctional, it was true, but it still changed and reacted to his presence or lack thereof. It did not behave that way with anyone else.

"Very well then, not me. But anyone else you think you know or trust," he said, still trying to make his point.

"Polyjuice is simply too easy to make or obtain in any Apothecary. After what Barty Crouch did, the Headmaster has put up several different alarms to detect for disguise and concealment. He, Flitwick, and I check those regularly to make certain that they are effective against the latest known subterfuge. Polyjuice Potion in use inside these grounds now sends an immediate alarm to Albus and a select few of the faculty.

"If you wish to be certain of someone's identity, then Hogwarts is the safest place of any. Just be aware that no defense is perfect."

"Why hasn't that been tried more before, then? Why hasn't someone tried to impersonate Minerva or Flitwick or Hagrid and infiltrated the school that way? I mean, besides what Crouch did, obviously," she asked thoughtfully.

"It is exceedingly difficult to maintain for any length of time. In most cases, anyone who knows the person well will soon discover the concealment. Crouch was exceedingly skilled and Moody is eccentric enough to be somewhat easy to impersonate, at least on the surface. Crouch used potions to keep Moody's defenses against the Imperious Curse weakened and was able to question him regularly to maintain his disguise. Both Crouch and Moody are skilled at Occlumency, which means Dumbledore was not suspicious when he could not read the impostor Moody easily. Few people are that skilled or able to mimic that degree of detail. For most cases, it is a sufficient disguise for short periods only. However, it is still a serious risk."

She swallowed the apprehension his warnings had caused, and nodded her understanding. His hand found hers again and for a time they sipped their drinks in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

"Why were you out on the grounds alone so late tonight?" he asked, in a tone that was almost, but not quite, accusatory. So much had happened since his return that she had nearly forgotten why she had sought him out to begin with.

"Harry came to me with all sorts of stories today—he's been meddling again and I haven't had time to report to Albus." She glanced over at his tired countenance, now darkening to anger again. "It's true though, isn't it?"

"Bloody meddling imbecilic _FOOL_!" he growled, too tired to rage properly. "I don't know what he saw, and I don't want to know, therefore I cannot confirm nor deny. By Merlin if Albus isn't going to put a leash on that brat, I will! I'm done waiting for his idiocy to get me or mine _killed_."

She squeezed his hand gently and stroked his fingers with her thumb, trying to draw his attention away from his anger. He needed rest, and he wouldn't get that if he was tense and angry.

"I'm going to speak with Albus first thing in the morning. Don't get upset over it now, Severus. You need to get some sleep. Can I do anything for you? Are you injured?" She still couldn't get the image of him soaked in blood out of her mind. The fact that he claimed that none of it was his made it somehow that much worse. "Do you… I'm not trying to pry, but would it help to talk about it?"

"No, to all. I need nothing, I am uninjured, and I most certainly do not wish to talk about it," he said harshly. She started to pull her hand away, and he held onto it for a moment longer. "The only thing that could help me, Rowena, you have already done. Just to see you. That was more beneficial than you can know."

He stood and pulled her to her feet, still holding gently to her hand.

"You are correct, however. I need to retire, and you ought to as well. I have not removed the door that connects our labs together. You may traverse safely through there, unless you have removed yours."

She stood there looking at him concernedly, trying to determine if he was being truthful with her. However, unlike Dumbledore and himself, and now to some extent Harry, she was not able to use Legilimency to any effect without a wand and a great deal of effort. He had the waxy-pale complexion that he developed when he was greatly fatigued, but he did indeed appear physically well and she had no real argument to offer. She smiled softly at him and reached up to brush a lock of hair out of his face.

"No, I haven't removed the door. I hope you know that you can come and see me if you need anything. Goodnight, Severus."

He closed his eyes a moment after she was gone, to savor the memory of her gentle smile and sweet touch, trying to forcibly superimpose it over the much less pleasant ones of the evening. Perhaps he could _will_ his dreams to be of the gentler images rather than the nightmarish ones.

He only allowed himself a moment, however, before storming out of his quarters with purposeful strides.


	40. Chapter 40: Trouble With Harry

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine! She is vastly under-appreciated, so I want to give her another set of Kudos as she often catches things as she Betas, asking me questions that smooth out many rough-spots so that you do not have to deal with them as the reader—and she is very busy in her 'real life' too!.

* * *

Chapter 40: Trouble With Harry

* * *

A wave of his wand lit his office as he swept inside only moments after seeing Rowena out of his quarters. He had been deadly serious when he told her he would deal with Potter himself. He paced his office angrily; every moment of waiting only increased his slowly burning rage. He was far, far too angry to wait until morning for this confrontation. 

As Head of House, he had a great many abilities and privileges at his disposal, many of which he seldom felt the need to employ. However, tonight he informed the Bloody Baron of his need, who in turn informed Sir Nicolas.

"He approaches, Professor," hissed the Baron in a soft, wheezy voice after gliding through Severus's office door.

"Thank you, Baron," Severus said, with a low bow. He could trust that between the two ghosts, it was very unlikely that anyone saw his 'guest' leave the dormitory and traverse the corridors to his office. The Baron inclined his head and glided out through another wall.

Severus opened his door with a snap, and indeed Sir Nicolas was approaching with his charge. Again Severus bowed politely, though not as low as to the Baron. "Thank you, Sir Nicolas. I shall see that he is returned."

"I, of course, am required to inform the Headmaster of any such requests. It is merely my duty and obligation, and therefore I will execute it with all due alacrity," the Gryffindor Ghost said, pompously. Severus did not roll his eyes, but merely gave a small nod of his head in reply.

"Of course, Sir Nicolas. Thank you."

He shut the door with considerably more force than necessary and rounded on the unfortunate miscreant.

"Potter," he hissed, his face contorted in rage, "The Headmaster has offered you every manner of leniency that you have any right to wish for. I warned you before that I would not tolerate your meddling. You may be willing to sacrifice your worthless neck in some sort of glorious heroics to be immortalized forever in the Wizarding world. I, however, am **_NOT_**.

"I want to know precisely what you have done and why you have done it, and I want to know NOW."

The boy was pale and sweaty. He looked almost ill, though whether from terror at being dragged to Snape's dungeon in the wee hours of the morning, or some other reason was impossible to tell. He had not been permitted time to find his wand or his glasses, which put him at a decided disadvantage in the Occlumency department. Severus gave him no time to 'set' his defenses, but pointed his own wand at the boy.

"_Legilimens!" _ In an instant he was inside Harry's scrambled adolescent imagery. Potter tried to resist. Later, when Severus was calm enough to be objective, he would have to admit that the brat put forth more effort than Severus would have thought him capable of exerting under the circumstances. However, in his current state Harry was no match for Severus' skill. He needed to know what Potter knew, and did not believe the dolt would be honest if his life depended on it.

The images weren't especially graphic, thank Merlin. Apparently Potter only took very short glimpses at random intervals in a pathetic attempt at something like secrecy. It seemed he hadn't gained much information, though Severus noted with some relief that Potter's perceptions conveyed a sense of pleasure and increasing trust from the Dark Lord. At least his current ordeal was not wholly in vain.

The pictures were graphic enough, though, including a few like vivid mental snap-shots from this evening. When Severus lifted his wand five minutes later, Harry collapsed onto the floor, drenched in sweat. Severus used every last drop of stamina he possessed to casually take his chair behind his desk and not be ill yet again.

Severus did not vomit. Potter did. Severus merely sat in his chair, eyes closed, breathing deeply as one who is trying very hard not to be violently sick and waited for Potter to finish emptying his guts.

"_Evanesco,"_ he said, waving his wand wearily at the mess when Potter seemed to have done. He waved his wand again and Potter's eyeglasses were in his hand. It was not an act of kindness—he merely wanted the boy to be able to clearly _see_ just how much trouble he was in.

"Does Professor Lupin know what you saw?" he asked brusquely, standing up and walking over to Potter where he still sat slumped in a ball on the floor. He held out the eyeglasses; Potter took them.

"No," said Harry weakly, putting his glasses on. "I did that after I left her office tonight, after she kicked me out."

"See to it that she does not find out," he said warningly, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at Potter still sprawled on the floor.

"Duh."

"Manners, Potter. You appear to have held my life in your hands on a number of occasions recently, whether you knew it at the time or not. Allow me to remind you that I now hold yours, and I am far less squeamish about executing that power."

"You won't kill me. Nick knows where I am and Dumbledore probably knows by now, too."

Severus leaned over, low and menacing. He grasped a handful of Potter's pajamas in his fist and lifted the boy to his feet, bending so that their faces were only inches apart. He sneered unpleasantly, and allowed his voice to slip into the deep timbre of silken malice that Potter ought to recognize by now.

"If I wanted you dead, boy, you would have been so a thousand times over. Yet I assure you that I could have you gone in an instant, long before Dumbledore arrived. I might even be able to find time to make it look like a tragic _accident._

"DO – NOT – TOY – WITH – ME," he said slowly and carefully, his voice its most dangerous silken tones. He released his fist from Harry's pajamas, and the boy all but collapsed into a nearby hard-backed wooden chair. Severus concealed all signs of personal fatigue and casually returned to his chair behind his desk.

"Explain. NOW."

Harry sat glaring silently for several minutes. Over the course of the last year, he had changed his opinions of Snape back and forth many times, though it was never very good. Still, if he was completely honest with himself—and there was no better time for self-honesty than when facing severe punishment—Snape was one of the few people that never tried to soften the truth. He might keep Harry in the dark on purpose, but he never tried to make the truth appear to be something other than what it was, harsh and ugly though it may be.

Snape also had listened to him and taken him seriously that night before Christmas when Harry had first tried to see into Voldemort's mind. Snape had even been… not grateful, but not nasty either, at the time. Harry's information then had enabled the Order to get a step ahead of Voldemort and had maybe saved Rowena from serious danger.

Every time, over the last almost six years, when Harry had suspected Snape of being one of the 'bad guys' he had been wrong. Every time. It was perhaps a sign of the boy's desperation that he was finally willing to give him some benefit of the doubt; even when everyone around him seemed to be increasing their suspicions against the Professor.

"No one around here is honest with me, not even Dumbledore. I've watched Rowena getting more and more upset lately in our Occlumency lessons. I hear some of the teachers muttering about how you're not doing your share of the night shifts and detentions anymore. Mrs. Weasley tried to get Tonks and Remus to un-invite you to the wedding because she says she thinks you've gone back to the other side. Even Remus says he thinks there's a 'leak' in the Order, but he insists that he doesn't think it's you."

He stood up and started pacing, ranting on, all the fear and anxiety of the past year pouring out of him—to _Snape_ of all people!

"And then I hear them talking about how they have 'six months left' and everyone's intensifying my training. Moody is coming to the school three nights a week and running me through all sorts of Obstacle courses and hex deflection practices. Remus has me mucking about with Rowena's Mannequins and trying to strengthen my shields and my Patronus. Everyone's getting ready for a big battle—even Voldemort. I feel like I'm a weapon being sharpened to go to war, without any say in what they're going to use me for.

"Do they really expect me to stand up and Duel with Voldemort? I can't possibly do that! How am I going to do whatever it is they expect me to do if I don't even know what it is?"

He looked at Snape, his green eyes simultaneously frightened yet defiant.

"I can't stand not knowing what's going on. Why doesn't anyone understand that? I'm terrified! Not knowing what is going on just makes it so much worse! I can't sit around like a 'good boy' waiting to be sent off to kill Voldemort when the time comes if I don't even know what's happening or what I'm supposed to do!

"I don't even know if I can do it… if I really could kill someone, even Voldemort." His voice broke slightly, betraying his fear and his youth, his uncertainty. "I don't know if I could do it."

He stopped his pacing to face Snape's desk.

"I won't promise not to do whatever I can to learn stuff. I've got to know. So if you're going to kill me, do it now and save us all loads of trouble. I'd rather be dead than be scared witless all the time!"

Severus let the boy rant on without sound or gesture, until he seemed to have done.

"Good Lord, Potter, have you taken lessons in melodrama from Malfoy? Sit down."

He folded his hands on his desk and frowned at Harry over them. Harry sat. Snape regarded him for long moments in a very calculating silence. In the end he seemed to come to some sort of decision and relaxed into his chair as he spoke.

"I must say that aside from the pathetic self-pitying angst, that is possibly the most intelligent thing I have ever heard you articulate. If you were not terrified I would think you an even greater dunderhead than I had first surmised.

"You are not given any information precisely because you are prone to irresponsible acts of imprudence. You ignore the perilous implications of your link with the Dark Lord. This has been explained to you repeatedly. I refuse to do so again. Your stubborn idiocy puts others in jeopardy. The only assurance of the safety of those around you is for you to know as little as possible.

"You say you cannot bear your own ignorance. It seems to me that your intellectual vacuity has never bothered you before. However, I will allow that it is possible for one's perspective to change. I can sympathize with you, Potter."

Severus smirked sardonically at the disbelieving expression on the boy's face. Clearly Potter thought him incapable of 'sympathy'. "Information is power. I understand the desire for knowledge.

"I am willing to assist you in your predicament, as only I can," he said, with no attempt at false humility. "With certain restrictions, of course. If you accept, you agree to my conditions unquestioningly. If I find that you have violated my conditions, all aid will cease and you will learn precisely how skilled I am at true vindictiveness—not simple school-child punishments. Is that clear?"

Potter's look of suspicion deepened.

"What are the conditions?" he asked, warily.

"Ah!" His sarcastic smirk deepened. "You _are_ capable of thought before action upon occasion then! Perhaps there is a wisp of hope. Never agree to anything before understanding the fine print. Very well."

Severus then began to list the 'conditions' in a slightly bored tone that nonetheless had the veiled hint of a threat beneath it. The easy manner with which he spoke suggested a great deal of prior consideration upon the subject at hand, so that it greatly resembled the rhythm and cadence of his "Brew Fame, Bottle Glory and Put a Stopper in Death" speech with which he greeted each new class.

"You will address me respectfully at all times. I am your Professor, and I have no desire to invite any level of camaraderie with my students, least of all you. Nor will I tolerate your insolence. I do this out of the _goodness_ of my _heart_, Potter." He paused to savor the blatant disbelief clearly written all over the boy's face. "As we both know there is precious little of that to be had, do not test it.

"You will be available to me at my convenience. I do not have time to concern myself with trivialities like Quidditch, socializing or neglected homework. When I have time to work with you, you will be ready and available.

"You will continue to practice Occlumency, rigorously. I will discuss the matter with the Headmaster and find a suitable tutor. It is quite possible it will be the Headmaster himself. It will NOT be me.

"You will NOT go poking around for answers to questions floating around in that vacant space you call a brain. If you have a question that regards the Order, the Dark Lord, or anything in related to the war in any way, you come to ME. You do not discuss it with anyone. Lest that is unclear, allow me to be excruciatingly precise: not Granger, Weasley, Lupin, your owl or any other sentient beast, spirit, being or inanimate object. ME. I give you my word that I will either answer you honestly, or tell you as clearly as possible why I cannot give you an answer—and you will be satisfied with that and you will DROP IT.

"You will NOT attempt to make any mental contact with the Dark Lord deliberately when you are alone. It is possible that the link might prove useful. We will explore this carefully—under very controlled conditions.

"You will tell me AT ONCE if you feel that the Dark Lord is attempting any communication with you. This includes all dreams of an unusual nature, sudden change in the pain in your scar or emotional impressions that do not originate from the revolting travails of adolescence.

"Those adolescent travails you may discuss with Granger, Weasley, Lupin, your owl, or any other sentient beast, spirit, being or inanimate object because I certainly do not want to hear of them.

"You will not tell anyone that I am helping you in any way. I trust that I do not need to define 'anyone' yet again? The Headmaster will know. You may speak with him if you desire sympathy or coddling, or need someone to allow you to wallow in self-pity. When you come to me, be prepared to _work_."

He finished his recitation abruptly, and regarded Potter with much the same look of dislike as he did on the very first day of the 'hero's' education all those years ago. Harry gulped.

"Those are the conditions. Understand me, Potter, I will know if you violate any of them. Now. Go to bed. Come to me when you have an answer. Do not speak of this to anyone—not even the Headmaster. I will tell him, if you agree."

Harry stood up, but made no move to leave. Instead he stood there, fidgeting.

"Why would you be willing to help me?" he asked, suspiciously.

Severus raised a brow mockingly, "Potter, your bumbling around is going to get me killed. No one else seems willing or able to take you in hand. You dislike being uniformed. I dislike working with idiots."

"But what's in it for you?" Harry pursued, doggedly.

Severus traced his index finger along his upper lip, trying to conceal another smirk. The boy clearly wasn't completely ignorant to the ways of Slytherins. When did they ever do anything that did not have some ulterior motive?

"There will come a time that you and I will need to work together in order to complete our objective. Without your assistance, that objective will fail. Your willing participation and some degree of cognitive engagement would facilitate the process."

"How do I know that you're working for the right 'objective'?" Harry asked, frowning thoughtfully. "How do I know that I can trust _you_? How do I know that you're not really working for Voldemort? You've been looking pretty comfortable there with all your mates lately, from what I can see."

"**ENOUGH!**" Severus roared, slamming his fist on his desk so that a few of the bottles of gruesome potion ingredients rattled alarmingly. He scowled savagely, his black eyes glittering with barely leashed anger. He did not want to be reminded of what he had had to do tonight or any other night—especially by _Potter_.

Of course, from Potter's perspective gleaned from within the Dark Lord's mind, it was to be expected that Severus looked 'comfortable' among his associates—he strove very hard to give precisely that impression. Any other appearance would rouse suspicion and ruin all. None of which excused the brat from his actions, nor did Severus feel obliged to offer explanations.

"You don't," he spat. "Know this, boy. I owe you _nothing_. I will not tolerate you questioning my motivations, my actions or me. What I do is _none of your business. _Either you want my assistance or you do not. You accept my terms or forfeit my intervention. Now get out."

"No," Harry exclaimed, sounding almost panicked, desperate. "No, Professor, don't kick me out. I'm sorry, I get it. I agree. I need to agree now. I have questions. I want to ask you questions. Please. I understand about all that other stuff. I didn't mean to put anyone at risk… I just need to _know_."

Severus raised his brows in surprise at the sudden change in attitude. It was late; perhaps the boy was as tired as he was. Merlin knew Severus hadn't the energy to hold onto a good rage just now. He slowly allowed himself to relax back into his chair, though he held Potter's gaze with a deadly glare.

"I will hold you to the agreement, Potter. Be absolutely certain." Already the impulsive boy was nodding, and Severus sighed. "Your Gryffindor recklessness will get you killed before I can even attempt to train it out of you. Very well, ask."

"What… what can you tell me about that potion?"

A wicked smirk slowly appeared on the Potions Master's face, and Harry shuddered visibly. "You've asked a question that I can and will answer, Potter, to an extent. Before the end I will require your assistance, so it is best that you are informed. Sit."

* * *

Rowena deliberately rose very early the next morning, in spite of how late she was up the night before. She headed straight for Dumbledore's office an hour earlier than the Great Hall would open for breakfast. The Headmaster's office door at the top of his spiral stair was closed, but opened quickly when she knocked. 

To her surprise, Severus was already there, sitting casually in a window alcove. He was gazing out onto the grounds as though oblivious to her entrance.

"Oh, Headmaster, Professor Snape, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll come back later," she said, barely glancing at Severus. It was hard to pretend to be indifferent to him when the familiar ache in her chest increased.

"Not at all, Rowena," said Albus smiling at her and waving to a chair. He waved his wand to close his door and focused his attention on her. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, it's about Harry," she said. "He's been doing a lot better in my class this term, and seems to be socializing more with his friends, but Occlumency lessons aren't going well. I know we talked about it before the Easter holiday, and I know you've been terribly busy, but I told him yesterday that I'm not willing to work with him anymore."

Severus turned sharply to look at her. He had not thought Potter was honest when he said Rowena had 'kicked him out' of her office the day before. Albus raised his bushy white brows in surprise. She explained the problem and her disappointment in Harry's continued violation of the boundaries that the Headmaster had given him. She couldn't quite keep the implied censure of Albus himself out of her complaint, since the greatest injury was the heightened distrust Harry had mentioned in regards to Severus.

"I see." He brushed a gnarled hand down the flowing beard, regarding her thoughtfully. "It is necessary, Rowena, to maintain many layers of secrecy just now. To be honest, it is not my forte. I think distrust and secrecy are very divisive, but they are sometimes necessary tools, do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Professor Snape and I will see to it that Harry gets the necessary training he needs for his Occlumency, but I wish you to continue to work with him as well. Harry will be more cooperative, I think. I ask you to give him another chance and let me know if there are any further problems."

"Oh," Rowena said, a little surprised. She didn't know what possible benefit could come from her working with Harry, but if the Albus was going to deal with the bigger issue, she had no good argument not to work with him. "Of course, Albus. I don't really mind. He's actually a nice kid considering everything he's been through. I'll talk to him after class today then."

"Thank you, Rowena. Harry needs all the practice he can get, of all his skills. Don't dismiss your own contribution. We'll see you at breakfast in a bit then, alright?"

Knowing a dismissal for what it was, no matter how gently presented, she left obediently.

* * *

"She's a very remarkable young woman. She still takes your side after everything. It would not shake the foundations of the universe for you to be a little less aloof with her, Severus," Albus said. Severus still sat in the alcove near the window, and Albus sat in his chair, facing the door through which Rowena had just left, so that his back was to Severus. 

"Hmm," Severus said noncommittally. He was actually exceedingly pleased that he had indeed been successful in concealing… whatever it was that was happening between him and Rowena. If even Albus Dumbledore had not noticed, he could be a bit more confident that his 'secret' remained secure. "She is better off. I do not believe we are here to discuss my interpersonal skills or lack thereof. You did send for Potter, did you not?"

"Is she? This is apparently some new definition of 'better off', of which I was previously unaware," said Albus, swiveling his chair to look at his friend. Vivid, twinkling blue eyes met glittering pitch black ones in a clash that was almost audible. Both men arched brows in an almost perfect mirror of one another, and in an instant Albus chuckled warmly.

"Very well, Severus. Suit yourself; keep your secrets. You look like death warmed over and your normally scintillating personality has become a tad abrasive these days, but never mind. Perhaps you are 'better off' as well?"

Severus snorted softly, "I do not need to be 'better off', Albus. I live in paradise. My existence is blessed. I'm about to be given the honor of spending what miniscule free time I can scrimp together with the Hero of the Wizarding World. What more could a man wish?"

As though on cue, Harry Potter was escorted into the room by Sir Nicholas and Snape's sarcasm was cut short. When the office was sealed and even the portraits were vacated, the three fell to discussion, with Albus leading and mediating. In less than twenty minutes, they had come to the perfect understanding; which is to say, none of them were completely satisfied with the outcome.

* * *

To his extreme vexation, Potter seemed to take their new agreement as an open-door policy to his office. Severus nearly snapped his quill when he heard his office door shut and looked up to see the obnoxious boy standing there already, only a few short hours after their meeting with the Headmaster. 

"What, Potter?" he asked irritably. "What could you possibly want?"

To complete the provocation, the boy wonder was _grinning_. Nervously, it was true, but grinning nonetheless!

"Hello, Professor Snape. I figured this part was s'posed to be secret, too, so I thought I'd better ask someplace where no one could hear. Are you coming to Remus's bachelor party? I mean, you are standing up with him as Best Man, so it's sort of traditional. Dumbledore already said I could use the Room of Requirement on the Friday before the wedding, and he'll make sure of the security stuff. It'll just be Order Members, well, and me since I'm organizing it," the boy's scrawny chest actually puffed out proudly at this last. "Traditionally it ought to have been your job as Best Man, but I figured I'd do that part since I don't suppose you'd have done it on your own."

Severus had often been told that his glare could kill, melt glaciers, and liquefy stone, as well as a variety of other similes that were amusing if nonsensical. He had never wished it to be true more than now. If such a thing were true, Harry James Potter would be nothing more than a steaming puddle of greasy human remains rather than a grinning teenaged brat who had just invited him to a_ bachelor party_.

"That is perhaps the most ridiculously absurd question I have ever been asked within the confines of these walls, which is saying a great deal. I am flummoxed as to whether to extract points for audacity or grant them for heretofore unparalleled heights of stupidity."

He bared his teeth at Potter in a malicious parody of Harry's boyish grin, "When in doubt, ten points from Gryff…"

"Oy! I was just trying to, you know, get along. Professor Dumbledore said we should try…"

"I am perfectly capable of civility without needing to engage in drunken idiocy, Potter. The Headmaster's instructions did not entail 'socializing', nor does our agreement. Now get out or I will take those points," Severus said harshly.

"Yes, Sir, sorry for irritating you. I was only trying to be nice. You'd be welcome if you want to come," Harry said.

Not wanting to give Snape the chance to hex him, Harry didn't waste any time moving to the door—though he saved his trump card for last. Severus mentally dismissed him as soon as he turned away, and was already reading the insipid essay before him when Potter turned back, one hand on the door latch.

"I've noticed something in my Occlumency with Rowena lately. She's been really pleased to know that you've agreed to stand up with Remus, and that he asked you to begin with. I think it means a lot to her that you two are getting along better. I haven't seen her that happy in a long time."

He shrugged, "Oh, well. I'm sure she'll understand why you didn't want to come. It's not like you really wanted to be friends with either one of them or anything. See you in class then."

The door shut with a soft 'snick' to leave Severus glaring at it in silence.

Bloody Hell!

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A/N: Again I invite you to visit my Live Journal account at I am 'weasleyfan', if you are interested in detailed Author's Notes in regards to this chapter. 

Thank you for your comments, questions, and reviews. They help me keep myself on track and ensure that I am conveying to the reader what I am trying to get across.


	41. Chapter 41: Wishful Thinking

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

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Chapter 41: Wishful Thinking

* * *

A few days later, 'The Daily Prophet' printed news that left much of the school subdued, even in light of the excitement over the 'secret' upcoming nuptials. It was impossible to move every single half-blood or Muggle-born wizarding family into Hogsmeade, even if they were all willing. They had prioritized families they thought would be most likely to be attacked, and done what they could for families who either would not or could not be relocated.

The necessity for the caution was not exaggerated, and the article detailing the deaths of six Muggle women graphically illustrated that point. They were mothers to wizarding children. Two of the families in question had children that were too young to be in Hogwarts yet, two had children just completing their first year here at the school, and two had children who had already finished Hogwarts.

Six black-and-white photographs showed six different houses, each with the Dark Mark grinning garishly over it. The women had been abducted, murdered and then returned to their homes, all without any witness ever seeing so much as a flutter of a Death Eater cloak. Voldemort wanted to send a message to suggest that security was ineffectual, resistance futile, and his own power unstoppable.

The article mentioned that each woman had been transformed via Polyjuice Potion to resemble one of Dumbledore's supporters, but did not mention Rowena by name. The new Minister was capable of some degree of control and discretion over the press, at least. The bodies had to be identified magically, because of the nature of the potion—a dead person can no longer metabolize it, so it does not 'wear off'. A person who dies under the effect of Polyjuice maintains the assumed form instead of returning to their natural form.

It was news that the Dark Lord had chosen to use one of Dumbledore's allies that caused as much fear as the murders themselves. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was getting bolder, more confident, which only heightened the fear of the general populace.

There would be many ramifications of this over the next weeks and months. The influx of people into Hogsmeade increased, straining relations all around. Those who had been there 'first' or at least early on in the war, did not trust the newcomers—how easy would it be to masquerade as a refugee if one was truly a Death Eater? It was impossible to screen everyone thoroughly, and suspicion began running high throughout the village.

Order membership began to grow rapidly, as people who had been fence sitting before finally chose sides. This was not entirely the boon that might be expected, as many of these new members were untrained, non-combatants. It was also assumed that Voldemort's ranks were filling as well, for the same reasons.

Somehow, even in the depths of war, life goes on. Remus and Tonks considered postponing their wedding, but Dumbledore encouraged them not to let Voldemort have so much control as to influence their decision, or their happiness. John Lupin recommended two of St. Mungo's best Counselors to Dumbledore, who hired them immediately. They took up residence in Hogsmeade and made regular visits throughout the village and Hogwarts to help the children and adults deal with the stress of events around them, particularly the newly bereaved.

* * *

Only by decreasing the frequency of exams and length of required essays, was Severus able to meet his obligations and still find time to spend a brief while each day with Rowena. He did not fear his students' education would suffer for the change—he merely increased the difficulty and complexity of the covered material to make up for the decrease in volume. It still required as much if not more time and effort from the student to scrape a pass, while not demanding so much of his.

By the pallor of her complexion as she read the 'Prophet' at breakfast on the morning in which that particular article appeared, he knew she suspected which of Dumbledore's supporters had been 'chosen' as the form for the dead women. Like many of the teachers, she opened it as soon as it arrived, while she waited for her tea to cool enough to be palatable.

She hadn't read far when she made a small, choked noise in her throat. Her eyes flew to his face, huge as saucers and filled to brimming with sparkling tears. The paper was propped before her in such a way that it would have been difficult for anyone else to see her. Her expression was such a mixture of emotion in that moment—shock, horror, fear, compassion, sadness and so much more—that it seemed to Severus as though the whole wealth of human emotion was laid bare in her delicate face.

"Me?" she mouthed the word when he glanced at her, unable or unwilling to articulate it.

He looked away, not wanting to answer. A muscle jumped in his jaw and he pushed his plate away, having eaten nothing, and having no ability to do otherwise. He wouldn't let her hear of it from someone else, though. Besides, she was too intelligent not to figure it out on her own after his warning to her about the Polyjuice and her hair. He looked back at her and gave the tiniest of nods.

A single, lonely tear escaped the cage of her lashes. It was not that which surprised him, however, but the sudden feel of her hand in his beneath the table, gripping tightly, though whether to give or receive comfort he could not have said.

It only took a few minutes for her to regain some sense of balance, and before the meal was over, she had engaged in animated discussion with the other staff about ways to increase security even further. He relinquished her hand when she pulled it away and felt a surge of pride for her. It seemed from his perspective that she became stronger every day, more centered, more focused, more able to cope with whatever came her way.

That thought lead to less pleasant ruminations. In spite of her girlhood fancy for him, she had never 'needed' him in her life, in any sense. He now began to wonder if he would be able to find a way to persuade her to let him be part of it, after all that he had done. Perhaps with her returning sense of self-sufficiency, she would find someone better suited to her.

Silently he vowed to himself not to interfere if that happened—and not to quit fighting to rebuild what he had destroyed until it did.

* * *

"Harry was in a better mood in my class today than I think I've ever seen him," Rowena commented pleasantly to Severus. He had come to her office after student curfew a few days after the momentous article, with the excuse of discussing Katrina's schedule over the weekend. They were sitting near her fire, ostensibly playing chess, though the pieces seemed to be getting bored due to neglect. Severus merely made a noncommittal sound and moved his king's knight.

"I thought you were going to deal with him?" she asked teasingly.

"What makes you think that I have not?" he asked.

"Because he was in a better mood in my class today than I've ever seen him," she repeated, now smiling at him and trying not to giggle. "You said something to him, didn't you? I mean something helpful, not just 'five-thousand points from Gryffindor'."

"Perhaps I merely threatened him to within an inch of his life."

"Nope. I don't buy that one, either. The poor boy's been terrified out of his wits all year already. I don't think even you could have managed to frighten him more than he already was," she said as she captured the knight he had just moved.

"You wound me," he said, with an overly dramatic hand over his heart, "If there is a student in this school that I am unable to make more frightened than they previously were, I have lost my touch."

The giggle would no longer be repressed, "Severus! That's a terrible thing to say. I'm shocked that you seem to get so much pleasure out of terrorizing your students."

"It is abysmally easy to accomplish, however," he said, smirking back at her as she continued to laugh. The uncomplicated sound of her happy laughter was perhaps the most pleasant thing he had ever heard. "Albus is always telling me that I should learn to appreciate the simple things in life."

"Somehow I don't think that's what he had in mind."

"Then he should learn to be more explicit. It is a very simple thing, and I enjoy it tremendously, therefore I am following the letter of his direction. I consider it fair payment for much of the more odious duties that are my lot as a Professor of this Institution."

Her giggles had faded away, though she was still smiling softly, apparently content for the moment. She leaned back against the arm of her sofa so she could face him more easily, draping her arm across the back.

"Is it really so terrible? Teaching, I mean? I sort of like it. I mean, I know I only have about a third of your class load and it's not a 'real' class—'Theories of Magic', right? But I'm surprised how much I'm enjoying it." She regarded him quizzically, as though genuinely interested in his answer.

"I just wonder how much of this is all bluff and bluster? If there was no war, no Dumbledore, no prior… history… what would you do instead of teach?"

He scoffed and shook his head, even as he tried to answer honestly.

"It is impossible for me to answer that, Rowena. My life was formed by this war, and the one before it, and the one before that. Snapes have been active in the Dark Arts, and in supporting the leaders of such, since long before I was born.

"My mother's family was not. My mother might have tried to encourage me to become a Healer, even as your father did with you—but even if the current Dark Lord did not exist, there would be someone in His place, and you can be certain that my father would have followed. The outcome would have been the same."

He paused thoughtfully, trying and failing to imagine a life scenario in which his father would not have killed his mother. Unwilling to dwell on the morbid memories, he brought his consideration back to her question.

"No; that is not true, since your imaginary scenario eliminates Albus Dumbledore. Without Dumbledore, or someone very like him, I would never have left that path myself. Or perhaps I would have tried and ended up dead like Regulus Black."

He turned on the sofa to face her, unconsciously mirroring her position and casually leaning his chin against his hand, his elbow also against the back of the sofa. He smiled slightly at her expression. She was clearly annoyed that he had not 'played along' with her game. The truth was, before he knew her, he had never given any thought to other options for his life.

"The best I can do is offer what I might like to do when this is all over. I think I would leave this school, at least for a while. I was only out of school for three years before I returned as a Professor. The vast majority of my life has been spent within these walls, and in some form of servitude. Freedom is so unfathomable to me that I can only imagine it in small doses."

All trace of laughter was gone from her face as she listened attentively, her soft brown eyes compassionate and accepting.

"Where would you go? What would you do?"

"Travel. See places as a normal person rather than a spy or Death Eater. Perhaps run an apothecary of my own—Merlin knows I'd put half of the shops in Diagon Alley out of business in a month." He offered her a smug smile in return for the amused grin she flashed at him. "Well? There is not a one of them worth half what they charge. I'd hex any student claiming to pass my N.E.W.T. who couldn't out-brew most of them."

He looked around her office, the pink tinges of the setting sun just fading from view of her window and let his thoughts return to her question.

"In the end I would probably come back here, for either the Defense job or Potions. Teaching does have its rewarding moments; albeit few and far between. I think perhaps that once I left, I would never return to reside within the castle itself. Professor Vector goes home to her family in London every night except when it is her turn for night duty. I could not be Head of House if I lived away from the school, but that seems a small price to pay for the freedom."

Something wistful crossed her features, and he wondered if she was trying to imagine herself in that picture somewhere. Then he wondered if that thought wasn't coming from his own newly discovered capacity for 'wishful thinking'. He decided he wasn't ready to pursue that thought any further just now, and so he put an end to it, and her question, with the most honest answer he had.

"I don't really expect to survive, you know." He raised his hand to stay her protest and shook his head. "I am not taking drama lessons from Potter. I am simply being pragmatic. I know what there is still to be accomplished. I know my own breaking point. I know how close the Dark Lord has come to it. It is just a game now. Who will outlast whom? I am not one of the ones required to be standing at the end game—my role is to ensure that those who are necessary survive to get there."

"That's morbid! What a horrible thing to say! What happened to Slytherins knowing how to save their skins?" she asked, all contentedness vanished in her frown.

"I am not offering myself on the sacrificial altar of martyrdom, Rowena. Trust me; I have a very strong survival instinct. It is not morbid but realistic, and it is why I have never allowed myself to think beyond the confines of the war before. You did ask," he reminded her.

"Don't let it be me," she said firmly, glaring at him.

"Don't let…? I don't understand you? Don't let what be you," he asked, puzzled.

"Your 'breaking point'. That's why those women looked like me, last week, isn't it? To test you, right? He thought I would be your weakness? Well, don't let me be! I don't want to be the thing that 'breaks' you." Her hand was clenched into a fist against the fabric of the sofa, her relaxed posture of moments before nothing but a memory.

"Why not?" he asked with an amused snort, trying vainly to forget the memory of that night. "That would be a very twisted irony, would it not? After everything that has occurred between us, I think if anyone has a right to that position, it would be you."

"STOP IT!" she cried, angrily. She stood up and stalked over to her desk and began shuffling papers about randomly as though she couldn't stand to be near him and needed something to do with her hands.

"That is not at all amusing, Severus," she said through clenched teeth.

"What do you want, Lupin?" he said, his own voice hardening in the face of her anger. "What do you want me to say? You asked me a question, and I gave you an honest answer—more than I would have told any other person. I will not apologize for upsetting your delicate sensibilities. I know you are more rational than that."

He remained seated as he stared at her back. She had now crossed her arms and was breathing heavily in her anger.

"You answer now, Lupin. What do you want?"

"I don't know," she said softly. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she shook her head. "I used to know. I used to want things. None of it seems very important anymore.

"All I really want now is to figure out what's going on here," she waved her hand wildly in the air to encompass the two of them, though she didn't turn to face him. "I want to know why you're paying almost more attention to me now than you did when we were married. I want to know what the point is, where this is going." Her voice was rising, angry yet constricted as though she couldn't decide whether to rage or weep.

"It seems to me I won't find out the answers to any of those things if you're dead. If that's where you're figuring to end up, then isn't this whole thing terribly pointless?"

Silent and swift as a pouncing cheetah, he'd risen from his seat to come directly behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her roughly to face him, his own anger now easily a match for hers.

"Bloody hell, woman! Are you deliberately trying to hear only what you chose to hear? Don't you know that it is because of you that I have given any thought to a possible life after the war at all? Don't you know what a gift that is? If that is not worth living for and worth fighting for, I don't know what is!

"I have no right to seek you out, not after what I have done to you, to us. I have no right, but I will, regardless. I broke this, what we had, what you gave us. Even broken it is the truest friendship I have ever had. Even if it never heals beyond this, I am not giving up, Rowena. Not unless you tell me to, force me to. It is _not_ pointless!"

Her anger, however, was already fading with the emotional instability that was the lingering effect of the broken Bond. She shook her head as she stared up at him mutely and then all but fell against him, so that her voice was muffled against his chest as she hugged her arms tightly around his waist.

"I don't want you to give up. I just don't want you to be hurt… or maybe even die… because of _me_!" she said miserably.

Severus sighed and held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. This, at least, was a sentiment he could understand completely.

"Rowena," he said, leaning away enough to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and tilt her chin up so that he could look into her frightened face. With uncharacteristic tenderness he gently daubed her tears. "Rowena, I know. Perhaps you do not wish to hear this—but that is precisely the reason I did what I did when I severed the Bond. I did not wish that link to make you vulnerable to my associates so that it might one day be MY fault that you were injured or killed because of my attachment to you. Do you see?"

She nodded. "So now what?" she asked in a very small voice.

"So now we survive this bloody war and worry about after, after. I mean no slight on your brother when I say this, but unlike Remus and Tonks, I know now that I am not able to 'live in the moment' to that extent. Their union will not automatically make either of them more vulnerable than they were before. My situation is different. To marry you immediately placed you in much higher danger—because of me—than most people in this war. I thought I could manage the risk and found that I could not."

"I don't know if I can get over that;" she said miserably, "I don't know if I can ever let us be more than 'friends' again. I keep thinking that you want… more than I can give, and it makes me nervous."

"No. You must not think that. Whatever happens, I never want more from you than you wish to share. If I never regain anything beyond this level of friendship, it is still more than I deserve after what I have done. I would not willingly do anything to damage this now," his dark eyes swept her face, searchingly.

She smiled softly and nodded again, leaning her head back against his chest as though merely the sound of his beating heart could soothe her confusion. She remained silent and made no attempt to move away. He closed his eyes and rested his jaw back against her soft hair, allowing himself to savor the comfort he had learned to find there. He couldn't even rouse the desire to be mortified that he, Severus Snape, was becoming a 'hugger', at least where Rowena Lupin was concerned.

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A/N: Short chapter to move the story along and get some Severus/Rowena issues discussed. Next Chapter will be posted Saturday, "Bridal Parties", it will be the bachelor/bachelorette parties for Tonks and Remus.

Please see my LiveJournal, I'm 'weasleyfan', for more detailed discussion of the chapter and/or responses to feedback.

Reviews are like chocolate, you can never have too much.


	42. Chapter 42: Bridal Parties

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

Thank you to a reader/reviewer, Surgical Steel who helped me with some of the more fun 'Texas-specific' stuff in this chapter, such as Dylan's preferred beverage.

I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it.

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Chapter 42: Bridal Parties

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The Universe conspired against him, or at least the wizarding world. Perhaps it would be most accurate to lay this blame at the feet of Hogwarts Staff, specifically one certain Meddling Old Fool. Even his much less congenial Master had done nothing to make his life more miserable today, since He was gone from the location where the potion was brewing when Severus arrived to make the brief modifications needed for the cycle.

It was Friday evening, and he had nothing to do. He could not make an excuse to visit Rowena, because she was gone. She had flounced into his office just after lunch, her hair loose and curled in the long ringlets she liked, dressed in a very attractive burgundy Muggle dress and heels, wearing make-up and the pearl earrings her brother had given her years ago, and a glowing smile.

"I'm gone for the rest of the day," she said excitedly, turning on her heels like Katrina did when she wore a fancy new dress with a 'twirly' skirt. "Do I look alright? We're taking Tonks out for her bachelorette party. Andromeda was able to get a Portkey all the way to Bath for the evening!"

He stood up from his desk and went to shut the door so as not to be overheard by any passers by. The moment the door was shut, she hugged him. It was a brief, friendly hug, as he had seen her give to many of her friends, but he enjoyed the fact that she did it so casually. His previous assurance that he would not pressure her for a more serious relationship seemed to have decreased much of her nervousness where he was concerned. The tentative friendship had become more relaxed almost at once, and she often hugged him now in greeting or departure when they had opportunity to be together privately.

"Well?" she asked, grinning, still waiting for his opinion on her appearance.

"Do you really think it is safe to go all the way to Bath, Lupin?" he asked irritably.

"Severus," she said, rolling her eyes. "Tonks is an Auror, or have you forgotten? And Hestia Jones will be there, she's an Auror too, and Emmeline Vance, Minerva, Molly, Pomona, my mum; none of us are completely defenseless, and we'll be staying together. We're staying in the Muggle side, but Hestia helped arrange extra security from the Ministry just in case."

Severus had already heard about all the extra security from Remus. The werewolf had been all but unbearable the last few days, popping in for no reason at all from time to time and making it nearly impossible for Severus to find time to visit Rowena, as he would have preferred to do.

Apparently that was one of the more odious duties of the 'Best Man'—to be an 'outlet' for nervous conversation. Severus knew firsthand that Remus was not at all happy about this 'night on the town', but had been utterly unable to stop it. If Remus could not prevent Tonks from going, Severus was surely not going to prevent Rowena—which did not mean he wasn't going to try.

"What have you done with Katrina? Shuttled her off to strangers somewhere since all her usual guardians are occupied for the evening?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She's having a 'slumber party' in Gryffindor tower with Hermione and Ginny. She's already there. They have big plans for popcorn, toasting marshmallows, doing hair, and painting finger and toenails, so don't you go bothering them. It will be very girly and froo-froo."

"Gryffindor tower? Overnight? Have you gone mad, Lupin?" he asked, as though she had just said she'd put the little girl in a tent alone in the midst of the forbidden forest. "You think she will be safe there?"

"Yes, I do," she said firmly, laughing. She hugged him again, though perhaps that was more to shut him up than out of affection. "I've got to go, they're meeting me in Hogsmeade in half an hour and these shoes are killers to walk in. I just wanted you to know I'd be gone so you wouldn't worry. See you tomorrow at the wedding if I don't see you before then."

His hand on hers stopped her just before she could open the door to leave, and she glanced up at him questioningly, only to see him looking at her very seriously. "You look lovely, Rowena. Enjoy your evening."

Her radiant smile as she left was the talisman he carried with him through the rest of the day, as the Universe conspired against him.

* * *

So it was that he was robbed of every logical, valid and even far-fetched excuse for avoiding the 'bachelor' party. He had even gone so far as to deliberately try and goad his Slytherin/Gryffindor classes into misbehavior just to have a legitimate detention to serve, but of course Filch took that at Albus' orders.

He made no effort to rush to get there. The party wasn't going anywhere, and he did not wish to be seen arriving. However, eventually student curfew was long past, and he had delayed as long as he reasonably could. Unlike Rowena he did not attempt to 'dress up'; he skulked through the shadowy corridors as slowly as he could, procrastinating the inevitable.

It was so much worse than he had been dreading. Loud music blasted against his eardrums the moment he passed through the door—there was a silencing charm at the entrance so that even when the door was open the noise did not spill out into the hall.

Loud _Muggle **DISCO**_ music. Someone—likely Potter—had decided to give the party a _Theme_. It seemed that the foolish boy went out of his way to find the most obnoxious way possible to recognize Remus' school days. A strange sphere rotated from the ceiling overhead, covered in hundreds of one-inch square mirrors so that the obnoxious colored lights being shone onto the sphere then flashed about the room in dizzying patterns.

The room was set up as a 'dance bar' of sorts; tables and chairs scattered about at one end of the room, a pool table and dart board at the other. The wireless box blasting the music was centrally located on the wall opposite the door. The room was dimly lit so as to be able to fully 'appreciate' the effect of the kaleidoscopic ball hanging in the exact center of the ceiling. Apparently there was some mechanism by which the lighting changed according to the music, even to occasionally strobe rapidly so that everyone appeared to be moving in an odd, jerky, disjointed fashion.

Albus Dumbledore was flipping through a book that apparently conveyed Muggle clothing of the period, his wand in one hand. He was dressed outlandishly in a violently purple Muggle suit of some sort, with wide lapels and a pattern of vivid blue moons and stars. He was moving about the room, transfiguring people's robes to match pictures in the book.

"They're called 'leisure suits', Severus!" he exclaimed with child-like delight as he showed his friend a picture. "Ted and Andromeda spent quite a bit of time in America before Nymphadora was born, did you know? He brought these books and things back, said it was some of the best music the Muggles had. Look—I've been saving this one for you. It has these lovely Slytherin Green polka-dots, what do you think?"

It could reasonably argued that there were few wizards currently alive more skilled at Transfiguration than Albus Dumbledore. If anyone could successfully transfigure Severus Snape's dignified but stodgy midnight black robes into a lavender leisure suit with Slytherin Green polka dots, it would be Albus. Or at least, it would be if one could overlook the fact that Severus had his own wand out and was pointing it menacingly at the white-haired old wizard.

"Do not even contemplate it, Albus," he said warningly. "I assure you that our friendship does not extend nearly far enough to survive—that!"

Albus chuckled, his clear blue eyes showing that his enjoyment of the party had not needed any intoxicants to embellish.

"Very well, Severus, though I don't know where your sense of adventure is! You should see Dylan—he's around here somewhere. We found a picture in here called the 'Rhinestone Cowboy' and so that's what we turned his robes into. Now, Ted says we're playing the wrong sort of music for that to fit in properly, but Dylan's as pleased as he can be."

"I can imagine," Severus said dryly. It was not difficult to spot the man in question, as he was quite a bit taller than nearly everyone else in the room except Hagrid. He appeared to be dressed in a 'traditional' cowboy get-up including hat, vest, and leather riding chaps, with significant modifications. The white leather appeared, from Severus's perspective, to have been spectacularly vomited upon by some manner of creature that spewed only garishly multi-colored bits of sparkly plastic. Even the ridiculous hat was not spared the cheap adornments. Howard was currently speaking with someone that Severus didn't know, but by the looks of his Muggle clothing and age, he guessed it might be Ted Tonks, Nymphadora's father.

The table filled with 'refreshments' stood along the wall nearest the tables and chairs. Potter was near it speaking with Ron Weasley and a house elf wearing what looked to be several dozen hats.

The Weasley twins were in identical powder-blue leisure suits and were at a table with John Lupin and Arthur Weasley. They were engaged in an animated discussion, though John was shaking his head suspiciously, even as he laughed.

Moody, Kingsley and Sturgis stood around the pool table; pool cues in hand though only half paying attention to their game. They were speaking in low tones; Moody's vivid blue eye could be clearly seen spinning in its socket even from a distance.

Charlie and Bill Weasley sat at a table together near their father, apparently 'catching up' after a long period of not seeing one another, as they were also speaking animatedly and were oblivious to others in the room. Hagrid and Flitwick were together near the wireless box, trying to learn dance steps out of another book.

Severus slipped over to the serving table, and Harry straightened up from his stoop. The youngest Weasley boy cast a fearful glance at his friend, but scurried away at Severus' glare, as did the elf.

"Professor Snape!" Harry exclaimed, clearly surprised. "I thought you said you weren't coming? You're not dressed right for this kind of party, though. I bet you don't even know what Disco is, do you? Professor Dumbledore is helping everyone with their clothes, you need to see him."

Potter's 'leisure suit' was among the least obnoxious in the room, being merely plain green to match the boy's eyes. Again Severus rolled his eyes internally at the repeated evidence of blatant favoritism and coddling where the brat was concerned.

He did not need the slurring of the consonants or the unfocused appearance of the green eyes behind the glasses to know that Potter had already imbibed a good deal, no doubt with the watchful indulgence of the supposedly responsible adults in the room. He moved closer to the boy and lowered his voice, though the magic of the room was such as to allow Harry to hear him without alteration in the music.

"Potter, what do you surmise occurs to one's Occlumency when one is inebriated?" he asked, silkily.

Harry blinked dazedly at him.

"Um… Professor… would you mind repeating that, in English? I'm afraid I'm just a little bit fuzzy right now."

"Precisely, Potter. Allow me to use small words so that you are able to comprehend me. What do you think would happen if the Dark Lord tried to access your mind right now?" he hissed, enunciating every word.

"Oh. Well. Er… I suppose he'd have a pretty hard time because I'm a bit tipsy and my thoughts are all screwed up?"

"No, indeed, not at all. He would be able to bend your will to his own with lamentable ease, boy. You will need to be much more skilled in Occlumency before you are capable of maintaining your defense in altered mental states."

Harry did have the grace to look abashed, though it wasn't easy to carry off, as his eyes wouldn't focus properly.

"What do I do, sir?" he asked miserably.

Severus reached into a deep pocket and pulled out two small vials. He handed one to Harry.

"Drink that. It will facilitate normal cognitive functioning, such as it is," he scowled darkly as Harry grabbed the vial and drank it immediately. The green eyes came into focus, yet seemed puzzled as to why Severus was looking even angrier.

"Oh. I shouldn't have just drank it like that, huh?"

"No. You should not. What if I had wanted to poison you?"

"Well, I don't think you'd really poison me in a room full of people. Besides I wouldn't be able to tell anyway, so what does it matter? You're starting to sound like Moody."

Severus bristled visibly and grabbed Harry's arm tightly. "There is no reason to be insulting, Potter. Moody is paranoid. I am suspicious. There is a difference. I could have just fed you a slow-acting poison that would not actually kill you for days to come, so that it would be impossible to trace to me. Do you mean to tell me that you are in my sixth year Potions class and could not identify a slow-acting poison upon close examination?"

Harry no longer appeared drunk, but he did look horrified, as though a Dementor was slowly advancing on him. "C'mon, sir, it's a party… I didn't think you'd give me poison because I trust you, all right? You're not going to give me some huge essay now, are you?"

Severus looked as though that was precisely what he intended to do, brushing off the boy's declaration of 'trust', but Remus turned up at precisely that moment.

"Severus, you aren't harassing the host of my party just now, are you?" he asked mildly. He looked positively ludicrous in a plaid leisure suit in various shades of blue and green. "I'm glad you've come. You don't have a drink yet, what would you like?"

Severus glared a moment longer at Potter, then handed him the second vial before releasing his arm.

"_Examine_ that first. Drink it before you retire, then seal your mind."

Harry accepted the vial, stuck it in a pocket, and nodded his understanding before scurrying away to rejoin Ron. Severus sighed in exasperation and turned to Remus.

"What I would _like _is to leave. I will settle for a brandy, and lighting that is not guaranteed to induce migraines."

"Well, I can't fix the lighting, none of the decorations are my doing, but I can get you that brandy." Remus grinned and poured the drink, giving it to Severus. The werewolf was not the least inebriated. "Unless you want to try one of Dylan's 'Red Hot Shots'? Apparently it's a popular drink from his part of Texas—Tequila and Tabasco. I haven't tried it myself. My nose isn't so sensitive just now at the new moon, but it burns my sinuses just to stand next to him when he mixes it."

"Brandy is fine, thank you," said Severus, not even trying to conceal his disgust at the thought of drinking anything the cowboy might find palatable.

"Good choice. Apparently Dylan says the shots ought 'rightly' be followed by a beer chaser, but the House Elves don't have his brand. He wanted a 'Shiner Bock' but said he'd settle for 'that rat piss, Lone Star', neither of which are presently available," Remus said, grinning at Severus' obvious annoyance.

"If rat urine is all the man desires to drink, I am certain I could oblige from my potion stores," Severus said nastily. Remus chuckled and shook his head.

The jangle of spurs could be heard even over the raucous music, which was fortunate, as Severus had time to steel himself for the inevitable conversation.

"Howdy, Remus, Sev…erus," Dylan said, apparently remembering just in time that he had been forbidden to call him 'Sev'. "Yer gals're both out whoopin' it up in Bath I hear? What sorta name is that fer a town anyway, 'Bath'? I ain't really met Nymphadora yet, but her pa seems like a right nice old gent."

Severus managed a smirk. As much as he disliked anyone calling him 'Sev', Tonks was even more rabid about not being called 'Nymphadora'—but he would not enlighten the cowboy. It might be amusing to see how the Auror would respond. They'd only seen each other briefly in the hospital when Lupin was injured, and no introductions had been made then in light of the situation.

He did need to correct the man on his other misperception, however.

"Professor Lupin is not my 'gal', Howard," he said abruptly. "She is an intelligent woman whom I am privileged to consider a friend, but she is far too independent to be anyone's 'gal'. Certainly not mine."

"Right," Dylan drawled, too drunk to even pretend to hide his disbelief. "If she ain't yer gal, she woulda agreed to marry me when I asked now, wouldn't she?"

Lupin did a spit-take over his drink, and Severus only just managed not to drop his glass. Both men looked at the outrageously glittering cowboy with undisguised incredulity.

"What!" Severus and Remus exclaimed simultaneously. Dylan looked indecently pleased with himself, his hazel eyes sparkling almost as much as the gaudy rhinestones of his outfit.

"Yup. I asked her. Right after I heard 'bout her fixin' to adopt the little girl. I reckoned if we got married, we'd adopt the filly and Rowena'd be happy. Always wanted me a fam'ly, reckoned that'd be a slick way to get a real fine one right off."

Severus saw red. Jealous rage filled him until it required every drop of his practiced control not to pound his glass right into the other man's smiling face. It did not help matters that he knew the imbecile was more aesthetically appealing than himself, nor that he could remember finding her curled up asleep with the bastard when he'd gone to inform her of her brother's injury.

Remus, not being speechless in rage, recovered himself much more quickly, and had the audacity to grin broadly as though he was trying hard not to laugh.

"You don't say?" he asked, his voice completing the impression of barely suppressed mirth. "She turned you down, though?"

"Yup, sure did. I'm right disappointed, I can tell ya. She's a real cute gal and sweet as the day is long. I like her real fine. Yer a nice dude, Remus. I'd'a liked to call you 'brother'. Might happen yet. Ain't it said that gals change their minds a lot? I reckon I just didn't give'er enough time," he said.

He seemed to sense the threat in Severus's glare, because his bright smile faded slightly—though Remus thought he could detect a very smug glint in the hazel eyes. Dylan took off his gaudy hat and ran his hand through the thick mane of wavy brown hair, as though to 'fluff' it properly before replacing the adornment. The impression of intentional mischief was completed when Dylan caught Remus' gaze and winked.

"Well, I reckon I'll go sit a spell with John and Art," he said, tilting his head toward where Arthur Weasley and John Lupin were still sitting in conversation with the twins. The spurs clanked loudly across the room, though Remus was certain that the sound of Snape's teeth grinding was louder still.

"C'mon, Severus," Remus said, clapping a hand on the rigid shoulder next to him. He realized that Dylan was baiting Severus, but decided not to get in the middle of it—he'd had more than enough fights with Rowena on those grounds already. "You won't kill him with that glare no matter how long you stand there, and she's no more going to marry Dylan than Dumbledore so you can calm down."

"You are blithering, Lupin," Severus growled, at last pulling his gaze away from Howard and attempting to feign boredom. "It is no concern of mine where your sister chooses to bestow her affections. I doubt that a fop like that is to her taste, but it makes no difference to me."

"Right," Remus drawled in mimicry of Dylan's disbelief a moment earlier. He chuckled at the sour look on Severus' face. "You're positively dripping with indifference. He's her friend, nothing more. This is the first I'd even heard that he wanted to BE anything more."

He couldn't resist a slight jab, though. If Dylan was willing to face the wrath of Snape to needle the man into seeing the obvious, far be it for Remus to undo all his 'work'.

"I suppose that's why he spends so much time with her and Katrina. I hadn't really given it much thought before. Well, he hasn't got a chance, so don't worry about it."

"I am not worried about it," Severus said haughtily.

Remus gave him another disbelieving glance, but wisely fell silent.

None of the men present would ever have been described as 'party animals' at any time of their lives, except perhaps the Headmaster in his youth. The Weasley twins and their older brothers put on a good show of fireworks and a daring juggling act using flaming batons. There were games of chess, darts, pool, and several hours spent on a fiendishly difficult trivia game, which ended up in a draw between Remus and Severus. It was well past two in the morning before the party finally disbanded.

Severus stood near the door as everyone left and handed out vials similar to what he had given Harry earlier. Moody refused it of course, and Albus didn't need it, but the others all accepted it with various degrees of gratitude.

Harry couldn't restrain his curiosity any longer, though he remembered his 'conditions' and came directly to Severus with his question.

"What is it, Professor?"

"You don't know, Potter?" Severus asked sardonically. Remus overheard the conversation and came over to clap an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Hangover preventative," Remus said cheerfully. He was noticeably tipsy by now himself, and chuckled at the disdainful look on Snape's face and the suspicious one on Harry's. In his mild drunkenness, he leaned a little heavier on the arm around Harry than necessary, and his 'theatrical' whisper was a bit louder than he would have intended as he pretended to 'reveal' a 'secret'. "See—don't let anyone else know this—but Snape can actually be a decent bloke when he thinks no one will notice."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lupin," Severus said haughtily, "I do not do this out of philanthropy. I am merely sparing myself the inconvenience of a dozen people trickling to my door tomorrow in various states of misery to grovel at my feet.

"Normally I enjoy the groveling," he smirked in amusement, "but my day tomorrow is quite spoken for due to this bothersome wedding. I have no time to deal with the self-induced suffering of others. This is for my convenience only."

"Of course, Severus," Remus said, though he was still chuckling as he escorted Harry out of the room and back to his dorm.

* * *

Bath was enormous, if a bit tourist-y and slightly dingy. It had many old theaters, hotels and restaurants whose architecture gave it the romantic air of an old Victorian painting—as long as one didn't look too closely.

Their first stop was a specialty salon where each woman was indulged in a manicure and pedicure while being amply supplied with champagne and chocolates. They were all able to be in the same room together, so that animated conversation and giggles crossed the room from station to station. Andromeda Tonks was not the least apologetic for the name she bestowed upon her daughter at birth, and used it regularly, to Tonks' annoyance.

"Well, what do you expect your new husband to call you tomorrow, Nymphadora?" she asked. "Are you to become 'Tonks Lupin?' No, you will be Nymphadora Lupin. It's a lovely name, you ought to use it."

"Mum, please," Tonks moaned, squirming in restless irritation in her seat and oversetting her champagne glass for the third time, to the teasing laughter of the others.

Andromeda Tonks was a slender, fifty-something witch with hair so dark brown as to be almost black, with the lightest beginnings of gray flecks. She had light, clear grayish blue eyes that managed to look warm and mischievous at the same time. She and Becky hit it off at once, even though Becky was well the senior of the two women. Molly, Minerva and Pomona quickly joined their camaraderie.

Rowena caught up on Ministry 'gossip' with Tonks, Hestia and Emmeline; the usual things like who's kids were doing what, which marriages had what sorts of troubles, all the 'news' that she had not heard since leaving her position there.

After the salon, they went to an elegant restaurant. Rowena had reserved one of the nicer 'meeting rooms' for their party, so that they were alone and attended by several very stodgy but discreet waiters. The room was several floors up, and had a huge window with French doors leading to a large balcony that looked out over nicer areas of the city. Plants, soft lighting, and tasteful waterfalls decorated the room so that it felt almost like being in a small garden at twilight.

Champagne, laughter, and conversation flew about the room like Cornish Pixies on a sugar high. The nature of the party almost required the topic to eventually focus on love, men, relationships and marriage, so that soon everyone was in peals of giggles as Molly Weasley related some of their antics when she and Arthur had first been dating. It left no one in any doubt as to where Fred and George inherited their mischief.

There was plenty of teasing of Tonks and her dating an 'older man', as Remus was nine years her senior, but she bore the teasing gracefully—well, except for the inevitable spills and her elbow in the butter dish. Those lead to a teasing call for 'bets' from Hestia, "What're the odds on Tonks getting down the isle tomorrow without falling?" and more laughter.

It was Emmeline who brought up the question that Rowena was dreading as inevitable considering the situation.

"Okay, Rowena. We've all been very good, I think, all things considered. It just won't do. I'm sure I'm not the only one dying to know the juicy details! You have GOT to tell us… what happened? I mean, how in the world did you end up engaged to SNAPE of all people… and why'd you break off? Who cried off, him or you?"

The entire table fell silent, and poor Rowena could feel her face burning as all eyes turned toward her. Even though she considered all these women her friends, it still wasn't something she felt comfortable discussing. She smiled at her mum who chose that moment to squeeze her hand gently.

"You don't have to tell us, dear," Becky said, though the disappointed faces of the others at the table did not agree with that sentiment.

"I think it's just as well if you ask me," said Tonks, trying to cover for Rowena. "Remus was in a right state over the whole thing. I like not having him worry so much just now."

"Well, Severus is extremely abrasive to deal with at the best of times," Minerva chimed in with her thick Scottish brogue, "I was more surprised that Rowena agreed to begin with, than that it broke off. Consider yourself lucky, dear, to get out while it was still relatively easy."

"No!" Rowena said earnestly, looking around as they all nodded in agreement to what Minerva had said. Each woman looked prepared to launch into her own experience with Severus' less pleasant qualities. "It wasn't like that at all. It really was a mutual decision. We've got so much to worry about just now, and things just went too fast.

"My mum can tell you—I've had a fancy for him since I first came to Hogwarts and he was in school with my brother. When I saw him again last summer… well, I just sort of got lost in that attraction more than ever."

She blushed even deeper, and toyed anxiously with her hair, unsure what to say or how to say it. Hestia helped her along with an exaggerated dreamy sigh.

"He's always been so intense—I could see how you could get carried away. I mean, if he'd turn those dark eyes on a girl in something other than scorn, that would be a very powerful thing," Hestia said.

"Oh, yes. Very intense," said Rowena, with a nervous sort of laugh, suddenly remembering the heat of his kisses more vividly than she had since the Bond had been broken. "I think it was the intensity that was our undoing, actually. Were our feelings real or just related to the newness? Or maybe intensified because of the danger of the war?"

All of the women here were in the Order, but the location was not secure, and there were things she didn't really want to share with anyone, let alone a big group of gossipy friends.

"Anyway, it made Severus's job harder, too, and it was uncomfortable with the students and things. I think we both felt like we were under constant scrutiny by everyone. We're still friends. We just thought better of the engagement just now, that's all."

"OH!" breathed Tonks, "So it's just a temporary break up? You're planning on getting back together or something, after the war?"

"No, not planning… well, I don't know. I don't really know what I want, or what he wants. Everything is pretty up in the air. He's my friend, I care about him very much, but maybe that's all there will ever be."

The older women at the table were exchanging knowing looks, and Tonks had become quiet and thoughtful. Hestia and Emmeline were smiling wistfully.

"It still sounds very romantic," said Emmeline. "But here's the big question that we ALL want to know—was he any good at kissing?"

The entire table burst into peals of laughter again as Rowena went scarlet, but still managed to answer, "Oh, yes, very good," between giggles of her own.

Blessedly, conversation turned back to Tonks and Remus, with the surrounding women all giving Tonks 'advice' on how to have a 'good' marriage, only half of it serious. When pudding was over, they spent a few hours at an upscale dance club before taking the Portkey back to Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter, the wedding, the chapter after that, the reception. Reviews are like Chocolate, you can never have too much. Please don't hesitate to point out typos or Brit-Pick freely, etc. I have absolutely NO idea what Bath is like, I made it all up. If I'm way off base, send me the name of a town that would 'work', you native UK folks, eh? If you don't want to 'criticize' openly here, feel free to email me or leave me a message in my LiveJournal account, I am 'weasleyfan'. 


	43. Chapter 43: Nuptials

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

Thank you to Hermaania Malfoy and WitchEcho who are going back through the entire story and Brit-Picking for me.

Feel free to look at my LiveJournal, I am weasleyfan, to view my running list of 'corrections' and also research notes/credits.

Thank you to the LiveJournal community "HPBritglish" for help in learning of British wedding traditions, appropriate music, etc., etc. A great deal of research went into this chapter and many people helped to make it what it is. (Which in no way implies perfection, so please feel free to critique!)

* * *

Chapter 43: Nuptials

* * *

The late-May Saturday of the wedding day was as perfect as anyone could wish. The brilliant azure sky seemed endless; the riot of flowers throughout the grounds seemed to be trying to vie against one another to be the most vividly colorful amidst the green velvet grass.

The wedding would occur in the afternoon, followed immediately by a meal and the necessary party. They originally intended to use the Great Hall, but it was quickly decided that it would be easier to maintain the highest level of security if they used the Room of Requirement. The students knew what was going to happen; it was impossible to keep something of that magnitude a secret. However, only Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys would attend out of the student body.

The Professors least intimately acquainted with the bride and groom would be relied upon to supervise the rest of the students while Hagrid, Minerva, Filius, Pomona, Severus and Albus attended the festivities. The remaining Professors would also have the assistance of the Hogwarts ghosts and the Head Boy and Girl. House curfew would be strictly enforced. It was definitely an 'invitation only' event, in spite of occurring within Hogwarts itself.

The staff lounge was in use for the gentlemen to prepare for the ceremony, while the women gathered in Rowena's quarters. Excitement was high, nervous anticipation was almost contagious, and for those prone to shortness of temper, well—one can imagine.

"Good Lord, Potter. How many times are you going to re-tie that cravat? The bloody ceremony isn't for hours yet." Severus asked with bored exasperation. Harry was standing before a full-length mirror trying to tie the vivid blue silk for the umpteenth time. It was the only splash of color amidst the coal-black formal dress robes and the white collar of the shirt just visible at the throat. Severus, surprisingly, submitted to this slight stain upon his usual black, though he wore it with the same disdainful grace as everything else.

"I can't get it to lay flat!" Harry exclaimed nervously.

"It's fine, Harry," Remus said mildly, though he was fiddling with his dress robes with equal discomfort and nerves. His were entirely blue, the same blue as their ties. His own tie was white, barely visible against the white of his shirt.

"You are going to a marriage, not the gallows," Severus said as he turned his exasperation onto the werewolf. "Moreover a marriage into which you claim to be entering voluntarily. Why all the bother? Tonks does not marry you for your ability to wear your garments."

"Ah, Severus, it's just normal wedding jitters," John Lupin said knowingly. "It's a once in a lifetime sort of day, they want it to be perfect. You'll understand one day I suspect."

"Highly unlikely," was all Severus said in return.

As if on cue, the door burst open and Rowena flew into the room, in as much of a dither as any of the gentlemen had ever seen her. She was nowhere near 'done', as she was running about in her tights, her hair clean but unadorned and straight as a pin. She was already in her dress, a slightly lighter, complimentary blue to Remus' robes and the ties. It, too, was silk, and consisted of a spaghetti-strapped bodice tightly clinging to her from bust to low on her hips, before flaring out in a full skirt that reached just below her knees in the front and slowly tapering almost to the ground in the back. A fine, nearly transparent silk lace in the same shade of blue layered over the whole, like a second dress worn over the first, but with elbow-length sleeves and a gentle, scooping neckline.

"Remus! Tonks is hysterical. Her 'something old' isn't going to work at all! She was planning to wear Andromeda's veil from their wedding, but we've just taken it out of the storage box, and it's gone yellow with age! It can't have been stored properly. Even Molly Weasley hasn't been able to whiten it!" Rowena exclaimed breathlessly as soon as she laid eyes on her brother.

Severus observed the exchange with raised brows, though he said nothing. He would not have admitted the sentiment aloud to anyone, but he found that he was enjoying simply looking at her. She would have decried herself as 'plain' and 'ordinary', and perhaps to more objective observers that might be an accurate assessment. He thought he had rarely seen her look lovelier, even in her 'undone' state. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright from the excitement of the day and her current distress. He remembered the silky softness of her hair, and simultaneously longed to reach out and touch it, while feeling possessively jealous of the others in the room who were being 'treated' to the rare sight of it loose and flowing to her waist.

An exclamation from one of the other men in the room drew his attention from his more pleasant ruminations.

"Damn!" said Ted Tonks from his seat near John.

"Uh-oh," said Remus. "Alright. I'll come and talk to her, calm her down." He stopped fiddling with his sleeves and made to leave the room, except that Rowena stopped him with her hands on his chest.

"Are you mad? You can't see her before the wedding! It's bad luck!" she said, looking at him as though he had grown a second head.

"What are you on about, Lupin?" Severus asked, still not having risen from his seat near the window. "I'm sure Minerva can transfigure a new veil without difficulty."

"Yes, Severus, a _new_ one," she said irritably. "She needs "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a Sickle in her shoe". Don't you know? It's tradition, and is supposed to bring good luck to the marriage."

She turned her attention back to Remus.

"She's borrowing my pearl earrings that you gave me all those years ago. Her garter is blue, and of course her dress is new and we've got the sickle. Andromeda went home to see if she could come up with something else, but Tonks says she doesn't have much because… well, you know…"

When the Black family disowned Andromeda, she had hardly been allowed to take anything valuable with her.

"Well, I gave you those earrings twenty years ago, doesn't that count as old enough?" Remus asked, exchanging a bemused look with Severus, who was unsuccessfully trying to pretend not to pay attention to the conversation.

She stamped her foot in irritation—which had no affect whatever since she wasn't wearing any shoes—and shoved him in the chest.

"Are you being difficult on purpose? Of course those don't count. She has to give those back because they are _borrowed_. It's very bad luck to keep something borrowed. The something old is supposed to represent longevity and a long, happy marriage. Ideally it would come from someone who has experienced a long, happy marriage, get it? That's why she's so upset over her mum's veil—it was Ted's mum's veil too, see?"

She looked to Ted for confirmation. He and John Lupin appeared to have been playing cards, though Ted looked slightly put out at the moment.

"Damn," he said again. "Andromeda will be impossible for days. Yeah, it was my mum's. Andromeda was so happy to wear it, meant a lot to her. She'll be in a snit that it's ruined and Nymphadora can't wear it."

"I'm sorry, Ted," Rowena said sympathetically, "You're right, though. Andromeda is as tearful over the thing as Tonks."

Rowena turned back to Remus, who still seemed puzzled at how such a 'small' thing could be such a problem.

"Oh, never mind!" she snapped at him, irritated that he didn't seem to 'get it'. "We'll just have to figure something out ourselves.

"That's not why she sent me here, anyway. I'm supposed to ask you what color you want her hair to be? She doesn't like the pink, red or violet that she's tried so far. She says they clash with the flowers."

"We've already talked about this," Remus said with a touch of annoyance of his own. "I am marrying _Tonks _because I love _her_, just as she is, not her abilities or her _hair_. I told her I wanted her to just be herself."

Now he was surprised when his diminutive sister threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, blinking back tears.

"Oh, Remus—that's so sweet!" she said, "I'm sorry I was so short with you, but poor Tonks is so upset over the veil. She really wanted to wear it. I need to get back. I've got to help see if we can straighten things out, and then see if Mum will agree to help me do something with my hair."

She gave her brother a wry grimace, as they both knew how much Becky Lupin did not care to try her hand at that particular task.

"Alright. I'll help you with your hair if you want, but it sounds like you have other things to deal with just now," he said, trying to smile around his own nervousness.

"We'll see. I'll come back if Mum won't help me, but for now I'd better see what we can do about 'something old'. I'll check in again later," she said, smoothing down his tie after mussing it when she hugged him.

The door hadn't quite shut behind her when Severus followed her out into the hall.

"Lupin," he called to her, and she turned to look at him inquiringly. He glanced up and down the corridor and lowered his voice. "Meet me at my office."

He disappeared back inside the staff room before she could say anything, or even nod her head in agreement. She knew he was trying not to be seen as part of the 'festivities', but she was burning with curiosity, even as she was anxious to return to Tonks and the others.

In the end she decided that a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. She slipped into her own office on her way to her quarters, and used the connecting passages to get to Severus's office. He was already there, standing with his back to her. A stone on the wall behind him had swung open to reveal a complicated wizard's safe, which was also open. He withdrew something from it, and then resealed the lot so that it was impossible to discern that stone from all the others.

"Will this do?" He asked, holding out a delicate choker of small pearls. At her look of inquiry, he explained, in bored tones, "Something old? It belonged to my grandmother. As I said, I have very little memory of her, but my mother insisted that she was 'happily married' for over 30 years, until her husband died. I believe it is at least 70 years old. It ought to match the earrings you've lent her?"

"Severus… why would you give such a thing away?" she asked, awestruck not only at the necklace, but also at the gesture.

"Far be it for me to stand in the way of tradition, even superstitious nonsense," he said cynically. "If there is one thing Slytherins understand, it is the need to follow tradition. If it will suit, you are welcome to it."

"Are you sure? It was your mother's!" she said, uncertainly.

"No, my grandmother's. My mother never wore it. I would not have offered if I was not willing to part with it." He smirked rather nastily as he toyed the pearls through his fingers. "My mother hid my grandmother's things so that my father could not sell them, but she never wore them. I have no attachment to them other than enjoying the fact that he never got his filthy hands on them.

"In fact, I think I like the idea of what the old bastard would think to find such a thing given to a half-blood as she married a werewolf." He moved closer to her and took her hand in his, and put the necklace in it, folding her fingers closed over it.

"It is nothing; a small price to pay not to have to listen to any more dithering about superstition. I ask that you make up some tale as to the origin. I would rather no one know."

"Why?" she asked in a small voice, trying to sound teasing over the lump in her throat. "Are you afraid for your reputation if someone finds out that Severus Snape has a heart after all?"

"Most assuredly," he said sardonically. "I would hate to find out such a thing myself, let alone anyone else learn of it. Enough cheek, Lupin. Go tend to your hysterical future sister-in-law before she does herself bodily harm in her distress."

Considering that the woman in question was Tonks, Rowena knew this was not an idle concern. She beamed at him and hugged warmly.

"Thank you, Severus," she breathed in his ear, and then to his surprise she brushed a chaste kiss against his cheek.

After she left, he decided that a modest string of dusty old pearls was worth a few moments of holding her in his arms any day of the week.

* * *

Back in her quarters, Tonks accepted the story of the pearls 'from a friend' with the distracted gratitude of one that has just been saved from the gallows. Becky and Molly raised brows at each other, but said nothing, and the pearls were quickly adorning Tonks' slender throat. Her dress was a form-fitting 'mermaid' style in shimmery snow-white silk and lace. Personally, Rowena thought that Tonks ought not to wear something guaranteed to make mobility more challenging than normal, but the dress was very pretty.

Tonks, when in her 'natural' form, looked very like her mother with hair so dark-brown hair as to be almost black, and eyes so light-blue as to be almost gray. Rowena thought it might be a passed-down trait from the Black line, as the coloring was remarkably similar to what Sirius' had been; and that perhaps that was why Tonks so often used her innate ability to change it. However, she was very pretty just as she was. Molly and Andromeda were having fun weaving flowers through her hair.

The 'theme' for the wedding was 'new life'; her colors and decorations simply "Spring flowers". She had chosen the blues of the dresses and the men's clothing to represent the color of the sky in the springtime, and a huge riot of different colored flowers for the decorations and the bouquets. Rowena's hair, being much longer, was not so easily coped with, and Becky didn't feel capable of the task, having given it over entirely when Rowena was very young. Rowena ended up back in the staff lounge with Remus and an entire basket full of a multitude of flowers.

Katrina had arrived with Arthur Weasley sometime after Rowena left earlier, in a pretty little dress the precise shade of her blue eyes. Dylan was also there now, apparently having turned up to keep Remus 'company'. Remus seemed to be enjoying the diversion. Severus had retreated to a far corner behind a huge book. Harry was playing checkers—normal, muggle checkers—with Katrina, trying not to muss either one of them.

"Remus, help," she said in exasperation. "I can't do anything with it, and I don't have time to muck about. Get your wand and lop a good two feet off it and let's have done. Mum won't cut it."

Rowena had always felt very dull and drab with her 'monotone' skin and hair coloring. Growing her hair exceedingly long had been her way of trying to compensate for her 'boringness'. However, it was naturally very straight and exceedingly fine, so that it really was difficult to do much with it without a great deal of time involved.

Severus was unable to pretend to be absorbed in his book, as he glanced up in abhorrence at the thought of cutting her hair. He was on the point of intervening himself when her brother's response reassured him enough that he retreated back behind the dusty tome before anyone could notice his attentiveness.

"I'm not about to cut it," said Remus, laughing. He rose from his chair and walked over to her just as she flopped the basket of flowers onto a small table. Dylan also looked horrified at the thought of cutting her hair and came over to observe the exchange. Rowena slumped despairingly onto a stool and transfigured the stretch of blank wall in front of her into a mirror.

"Well then… _help_," she said desperately.

"Why doesn't your mum help you with your hair?" asked Harry, surprised that Rowena would be seeking Remus at a time like this.

It was Remus, however, who answered, even as he fished out her brush from amidst the flowers. With sure hands and deft motions he quickly began to gather bits of it and section it off, adding flowers randomly as he twisted the strands.

"Our Mum grew up on a farm, and always kept her own hair short to be out of the way. The only braiding she did was for her horse." He grinned at Harry through the mirror when the boy laughed. "Needless to say, when she tried to braid Rowena's hair like her horse's tail, 'Wena protested—greatly. The final straw came when 'Wena was about six, though. I remember her screaming like a Banshee while my mum tried to brush the knots out of it. Mum grabbed the sheep-shears and was this close…" he demonstrated briefly with his hand, "to shearing her to the scalp. Well, I came in just then and begged mum not to cut it—so she said I had to take care of it."

"Like I was some sort of filthy stray crup he'd just dragged into the house," Rowena added, with mock-indignation. _"It's your responsibility, then, and if I have to touch it one more time, I'm shaving the lot!"_ She said in mimicry of her mother's tone.

"Yes, well, to be fair to your mother, I think your shrieks shattered some of her finer crystal goblets in the next room," John said laughingly. "If you weren't such a tomboy—always following Remus through the stream and the woods. You should have seen her, Harry. They both neglect to mention that on the day in question, she came home with her hair so full of cockle-burs her head looked like a scouring pad."

Dylan and Ted Tonks were laughing heartily at the image presented, and even Severus glanced over the edge of his book again, though it was only to cast a dark glare at the cowboy and retreat behind it once more.

"At any rate, I had nothing better to do, so why not? I found some books and learned all sorts of interesting things to do with it; it's not unlike knotting rope, really," said Remus.

Rowena made another indignant noise, and Remus grinned at her through the mirror. He was getting a little ahead of himself trying to talk and weave at the same time, so that his fingers were getting tangled and he forgot his 'place' for a moment.

"Here, I done braided a few o'them horse-tails before," said Dylan, still chuckling. He stepped closer. "Lemme hold the odd ends while yer fixin' the flow'rs."

A loud 'thunk' of a heavy book being tossed aside followed this statement, immediately succeeded by an almost aggressive swish of robes.

"Professor Lupin is not a 'horse', Howard," Severus snarled, having gained their position in a few brisk strides. "She did not come to her brother for aid only to have a ham-handed oaf scalp her in the process!"

He did not physically touch the cowboy, but his mere presence seemed to make the taller man step backward—though again Remus thought he caught a glimpse of something like triumphant satisfaction in Dylan's expression. Severus stood silently a moment, glaring down at the intricate braid now being constructed through the honey-brown hair. He then carefully extricated the ends that Remus held in his right hand, freeing that hand to add the flowers—which Severus was not about to touch himself. The instant awareness of how pleasant it was to twine his fingers through the soft tresses once again was immediately and savagely squashed.

"Do get on with it, Lupin. I confess, I cannot begin to comprehend this level of consternation over what is essentially nothing more than a mass of dead keratin."

There was dead silence for a moment, and at least one of the people in the room thought something along the lines of _"That much is obvious…"_ as several of the men cast furtive glances at the Professor's own lank hair; but no one dared utter the sentiment aloud. Severus stood with dignified boredom, as though holding strands of hair with the precise amount of required tension was no different than handling a potion ladle. Rowena was staring at him through the mirror with her jaw slightly open until he glanced at her and she shut it with an audible 'click' of her teeth.

Remus looked as though he was chewing savagely on his own tongue to keep from laughing, but he set to work to finish the braid. Surprisingly, Severus assisted him with such ease that it was almost like having four hands of his own—he never once had to offer direction or ask for assistance. In the end she had a very fine herringbone braid to the nape of her neck, with the random riot of multi-colored flowers throughout. He then left the rest loose for her to curl and let hang down her back.

"Thank you, Remus, Severus," she said, smiling warmly at both of them as she stood up to leave, though she had to ask Severus, "where on earth did you learn how to do that?"

"I have eyes, Lupin. I observed. Nothing more," he said irritably, and swept back to his chair and returned to his comfortable concealment behind his book.

Katrina left with Rowena to go and see Tonks, and they carried the rest of the flowers with them so that Katrina could have some put in her golden curls as well.

* * *

The Room of Requirement was utterly unrecognizable as being a part of Hogwarts Castle. Flitwick, Minerva, and Albus had spent their time transforming the room while the others were mucking about with hair, flowers, old traditions and cravats. The ceiling had been temporarily enchanted like the Great Hall so that it reflected the sky outside, currently a gorgeous blue darkening toward evening, which was a beautiful compliment to the blues of the wedding party.

The rest of the room had been transfigured to look like someone's very elaborate flower garden courtyard, complete with a white arched trellis covered in roses at the head of the room, under which the bride and groom would stand. The "walls" of the courtyard then had several alcoves along each side tastefully concealed behind more vines and flowering shrubbery, allowing for brief moments of privacy, as any good wedding should do.

The room was made to be long and narrow at present, to allow the bride to have a nice, long aisle to walk down to meet her groom. After the ceremony, it would change again to be less elongated to provide for a cozier atmosphere for the meal and dancing.

Tonks and Remus both had a number of Muggle relations whom they wished to invite. Albus at first advised only Order members attend, but decided that the true Muggles would not present additional security risk. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents and the like—only those who knew they were a witch and wizard—all came to swell the crowd. Severus used a very mild disillusionment charm on himself. The wizarding folk would see him as he was, but the Muggles would see him only as a nondescript 'someone' that they would not be able to recall clearly upon leaving. These individuals were already seated in the room, having been carefully transported by Emmiline, Sturgis, and Kingsley via Portkeys.

Tonks stood with her father, Rowena and Hestia in a larger alcove at the very head of the room, though concealed from view of the arriving guests. She was bouncing nervously on her feet, and Rowena frequently had to pull her hand away from her mouth lest she chew away her lovely manicure of the day before.

"Go peek, Rowena," Tonks said anxiously. "How soon will it be? Is everyone sitting down yet? Has Snape seated the Mums?"

Obligingly, Rowena slipped out of their seclusion to look over the room full of people. It was not a crowd by any means, no more than fifty people at the most, half of whom she knew already, but it was still enough to incite her own bout of butterflies. She wasn't much for crowds!

"You have overlooked a very important marriage custom, Lupin. I am surprised that you would be so careless," said the familiar velvety smooth voice from just behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin in fright and spun on her heel to look at him.

"Oh no! What? What have I forgotten? Whatever it is you mustn't tell Tonks—it's too late to repair and she's in such a state already!" she said nervously, though when she met his dark eyes, she felt all weak-kneed and shivery all over again for an entirely different reason.

Severus was looking at her with very definite masculine appreciation. She had managed time to curl the loose hair, put on a spot of makeup and tiny diamond stud earrings which she had bought just for the wedding, but otherwise looked much the same as when he had seen her only an hour before. She couldn't imagine why he would look at her like that at this moment.

"It is considered in most circles to be in excessively bad taste for the attendants to be more attractive than the bride," he said smoothly. "I thought you were more sensitive to the workings of etiquette than that."

The music changed at that moment to signal time for him to perform his 'duty' (which Tonks had assigned) as 'Best Man' and seat the mothers. He gave a small bow and turned on his heel, leaving her to wonder, as she watched him gracefully escort Becky and then Andromeda into their seats, whether he had just complimented her… or insulted her?

She still hadn't worked it out when the music changed yet again and she had to rush back to the alcove to take her own position with Hestia, ready to follow Tonks and Ted into the ceremony.

Tonks did not trip and fall on her way down the aisle. Whether that was because she had a death-grip on her father's arm, or because the cut of her dress forced her to take small, cautious steps was impossible to say. Remus stood at the end of the row grinning like a fool, though Rowena thought he looked like a very dashing fool.

She and Hestia followed behind; their bouquets smaller versions of the huge mass of wild flowers which Tonks carried. Hestia's hair was done up in an elegant knot that looked like it took hours but probably did not, and also had flowers decorating it in vivid splashes of color against her very dark hair.

Rowena's nerves settled a bit when she realized, of course, that all eyes were on the bride and she would not be expected to do or say anything in front of all these people. All eyes, except Severus' that is. She had been deliberately trying to avoid looking at him until Hestia managed to nudge her gently and give a significant nod in his direction. He was watching her in a way that made her feel as though there was no other living soul in the room. It was precisely that 'intensity' which they had discussed at the party last night, enough to take her breath away.

She was glad to get to the end of the aisle at last, and she and Hestia helped to spread out the short train of Tonks' dress before assuming their places at her side. The ceremony was longer than Rowena remembered of her own very brief, very private wedding. Tonks had selected some poetry that Albus read in addition to the standard vows.

Rowena found, to her horror, that when it came time for them to exchange vows, she was every bit as weepy as her mum and Andromeda. The severed Bond that she still shared with Severus became more painful than it had been in weeks, and she felt broken-hearted all over again at what had been lost. The vows shared so joyously by her brother and his bride were a painful reminder, even as she tried to focus on being happy for them.

Harry came forward with Tonks' ring; she provided Remus' when the time came. Albus conjured a lovely marble podium upon which rested the marriage license and a golden quill and ink. Emmeline Vance, it transpired, had a very lovely singing voice, and was asked by Tonks to sing a very nice if slightly sappy love song—"Longer" by Dan Fogelberg—during the signing. First Remus and Tonks signed, then the witnesses and then Albus.

Rowena could not look at Severus when she moved closer to him for her turn to sign the parchment, though she could feel his eyes upon her like a touch. She blinked back the traitorous tears and signed, then turned to hand him the quill. He caressed her hand slightly as he accepted it, which did ease the physical pain somewhat, but did little for the melancholy that wanted to overtake her.

"You are now Husband and Wife," Albus said at last, in his delighted, booming voice, and then gently turned Remus and Tonks to face their guests. The room burst into applause and cheers as they proceeded down the aisle under a veritable shower of multi-colored confetti.

Severus was still looking at Rowena gravely when they came together but she avoided his gaze and took his arm. He tightened it gently against his side as though to squeeze her hand comfortingly. Harry and Hestia followed behind, while Minerva and Filius prepared to gather the guests to one side of the room so that they could rearrange the area for the dinner and dance.

* * *

"Well, the thing is done, Lupin. I believe congratulations are in order," Severus said dryly. The receiving line had at last broken up, and he and Remus were standing somewhat apart from the rest of the well-wishers who were still hugging Tonks and congratulating her on the lovely wedding. The two men were observing the tables and chairs materialize in the room, floating into arranged positions at the direction of Albus, Minerva and Flitwick.

"Thank you, Severus," Remus said, still grinning. "All that anxiety and preparation, and it's over and done already."

Severus raked his gaze through the guests, easily noting the muggles in the crowd. "Is there anyone here who does not know you are a werewolf?"

"No. I gave up trying to hide that years ago. About three years ago, as a matter of fact," he said in a tone that was too gentle to be accusatory, though they both knew the reference.

"It was absurd to attempt to hide it to begin with," said Severus, utterly without remorse. Remus shrugged but made no comment, and Severus moved off, apparently without direction, though he ended up near Harry.

"Potter, a word," he said brusquely. Harry glanced nervously at Ron and Hermione, but followed Severus toward one of the small alcoves.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I wish to discuss your speech."

* * *

The meal was a grand affair. Remus and Tonks sat in the center of a long table at the head of the room just in front of the same arched trellis beneath which they had married only an hour before. Kingsley volunteered his 'services' as photographer so that he wandered the room here and there taking pictures of the guests and the bridal party. Severus and Rowena sat next to Remus, while Hestia and Harry were seated next to Tonks, all of them facing outward into the room. The rest of the guests were seated at large round tables decorated with still more of the vivid flowers.

"I believe that Harry had something he would like to say on this joyous occasion," said Albus at last. He was seated with the other Professors at one of the tables near the wedding party. The meal was winding down, so that it was clear that it was time for the requisite speeches.

Harry looked slightly panic-stricken and swallowed hard before glancing nervously at Remus. It was Severus, however, who stood with the same carelessness with which he might address a class. He slid in his chair so that he could lean one arm on the back of it as though it was his lectern in his dungeon.

"There has been a change of plans, Headmaster," he said smoothly, glancing toward Albus. It was all the explanation he offered.

"When Lupin requested that I fill the role of Best Man, he seemed particularly anxious to assure me that I would not be 'required' to make this speech. Anyone who knows our history will understand that his enthusiasm for anything makes me suspicious. Enthusiasm to spare me an odious task even more so.

"Thus, I did a bit of research into the custom, and the truth of the matter was revealed at once. It took very little time for me to ascertain that the traditional intent of this speech is to provide the groom some degree of embarrassment."

Remus groaned and buried his face in his hands, while Severus turned just enough to flash a smug glance in his direction.

"You cannot expect _ME_ to lose a sanctioned opportunity to humiliate you publicly before all your friends and relations?"

Remus appeared to resign himself to the inevitable and gave Tonks an apologetic glance before shaking his head. Severus did not seem to be waiting for an answer in any case.

"Nor could Mr. Potter be counted upon to do the thing properly, as he does not know you nearly as well as I. Nor would he be likely to be willing to provide the requisite humiliation even if he had the means."

He turned back to address the assembled guests rather than Remus.

"The challenge which faced me is that the embarrassment is intended to be humorous—the affectionate goading of one friend to another; utterly impossible in this situation. Lupin and I share a great deal of history, but little of it can be considered amicable and none worthy of levity.

"Instead, I found another tradition that seemed suitable to meld with this task, that of symbolic housewarming gifts. These are not commonly given at weddings, but I have taken liberties."

He pulled out his wand and waved it so that a large pewter cauldron appeared where the remains of Tonks' meal had been a moment before. He turned slightly so that he was primarily facing her, and proceeded to address his remarks to her rather than Remus, or even the guests.

Severus reached into the cauldron and pulled out an enormous "loaf"—that is, it was shaped like a very large loaf of bread; but what it was, was chocolate. This he presented to Tonks.

"A loaf of bread is traditionally offered, that your household may never know hunger. This is absurd. Lupin has an excessive metabolism due to his lycanthropy. He is almost by definition _always_ hungry. Most of the detentions he served at school were for getting caught sneaking into the kitchens; until the house elves decided they felt sorry for him and assisted his rule breaking."

He paused, his glittering black eyes regarded Tonks with a very stern air, and one fine brow arched high, as though he were lecturing a wayward student.

"It behooves you, as you begin your life in the matrimonial state, to seriously contemplate what it means to be wedded to someone who incites the **_pity_** of _house elves_."

Tonks gave a very small laugh, as though she was uncertain if Severus was trying to be funny, but his implacable façade made her stifle the sound almost at once.

"He also has an appalling addiction to chocolate. During the time he was at Hogwarts, both as student and again as professor, he consumed more chocolate in one week than the rest of the castle inhabitants combined. This might get you through a few days."

Rowena giggled—she couldn't help it. Remus WAS always hungry, and his passion for chocolate was almost legendary.

Severus next produced what appeared to be a salt shaker from the cauldron and held it in his hand.

"Salt, having to do something with bringing good luck while avoiding tears and hardship in life according to some sources; or protection against evil spirits in others. Most information I could find suggested that it was intended to be sprinkled around the doors and windows of the home for that 'protection'. I thought this more appropriate."

He casually moved his hand so that the salt shaker drifted briefly near Remus, wafting it under his nose. Remus jumped so suddenly that his chair skidded noisily several inches backward. He coughed violently and covered his nose and mouth with both hands as though the bottle contained something that stank terribly. Severus then handed this to Tonks with a satisfied smirk.

"Aconite, also known as Wolfsbane for anyone who has not managed to receive a passing mark in my class. It is an effective lycanthrope repellant even when in human form. Spread it anywhere you do not wish him to be nosing about. He has his friends' annoying habit of prying where he does not belong. This seems perhaps to be a requirement for admittance into Gryffindor House. Some things are simply better left secret."

Tonks looked scandalized, but couldn't help laughing slightly again as she accepted the shaker.

"Wine, that you might never know thirst by some traditions," he said pulling out what appeared to be a large wine bottle, except that it was capped with a rubber potion stopper and had a hand-written label. The liquid inside was barely visible through the dark green glass, but it seemed to be very murky and much too thick to be wine.

"Other sources suggested that it represents the nectar of life, wishes for fertility and procreation."

Tonks actually blushed as he handed her the bottle, though the look on Severus' face was one of barely contained disgust.

"This is a contraceptive potion of my own creation—highly effective of course. Directions are on the bottle. Circe knows I have no wish to see werewolf whelps populating my classroom. If you run out, I will provide more without charge… _gladl_y."

Several of the female guests looked outraged, though many of the men were snickering, and even Remus was chuckling as he shook his head. Tonks was now glowering, though now her ire was directed at Remus as much as at Severus, so that Remus quickly ceased his laughter.

"There is no symbolism to the cauldron or the items remaining inside. It is very blatant. The cauldron is the precise size and weight necessary, and there are enough ingredients within it, for the brewing of several cycles of the Wolfsbane Potion. I expect you to contact me as soon as reasonably possible and learn to make the thing."

Tonks directed her glare at him again now, apparently offended; though Severus did not look the least contrite. He turned his attention back to Remus.

"As you said when you asked me to take this role, our acquaintance has been a lengthy one. I believe your phrase was something about knowing each other through our 'formative years'. We have not been friends and often been adversaries. However, it would be reasonable to say that we have recently reached a place of détente. I congratulate you on finding an intelligent young woman willing to be tied to the likes of you. Even more astonishing, she seems to genuinely like you, which is a rare thing in my limited experience with the matrimonial state. Appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, I wish you and your new bride the best of success in your life together."

He picked up his glass from the table and held it up, once again addressing the guests.

"To Remus and Tonks Lupin. Best wishes for a successful marriage," he said in his deep, clear voice. Glasses rose in the room around them, and everyone drank to the bride and groom.

Severus held his hand out to Remus, who stood and shook it warmly, beaming.

"Thank you, Severus. That means a great deal," he said sincerely. Severus shrugged off the thanks as well as he could and resumed his seat, apparently glad to be done with his 'task'.

Harry then stood and said a few glowing things about the couple, as though he was trying to wash away the rather acerbic speech from Snape, and the party toasted them again. Ted Tonks also spoke a few words and offered a toast, as did John Lupin and Dumbledore.

* * *

The happy couple cut the cake together as was tradition, and it was served with alacrity so that at last all the 'requirements' of the meal had been met. At Dumbledore's request, everyone stood and gathered once again to one end of the room while the Professors rearranged the room so that only a few tables and chairs remained around the perimeter, leaving the center open for dancing. 

Molly, Becky and Andromeda gathered all the single young women while this was occurring, so that Tonks could throw her bouquet. Rowena and Hestia were not excused from this gathering, no matter how both tried to avoid it. Rowena disappeared with Katrina so often that she did not notice the suspicious whispering between Hestia, Tonks and Emmeline. She lurked at the rear of the small cluster of young women, thankful that she was a good deal shorter than most of them.

When Tonks turned her back to them and threw the bouquet, it flew straight over the outstretched arms of all the other women to gently 'fwump' against Rowena's chest. She instinctively raised her arms to prevent it falling to the floor, and then glowered half-heartedly at Emmeline. The girls were squealing in delight and clapping her on the shoulder with giggling congratulations while she blushed. She happened to catch Severus' watching her when she looked up from amidst the small throng. He raised a sardonic brow and stared at her, inscrutably.

When she could at last extricate herself from the mass she made her way to Emmeline.

"You put a homing charm on that bouquet!" she accused.

"Now, Rowena, would I do such a thing to you?" the Auror asked with an air of unconvincing innocence.

"Yes," said Rowena decisively, and Emmeline giggled. "It doesn't count if it's bewitched you know."

"Why not? It's just a superstition anyway. It's all in fun, Rowena. We had to tease you. Now that we know what's going on, we've been watching, and Snape has hardly taken his eyes off you all day. It's very romantic, if you can bear to think of _Snape_ that way. It's almost 'cute'; though don't tell him I said that. I'm very fond of my wand-hand just as it is. We just thought we'd give him something more to think about."

"Oh! You and your meddling! Now I know why Severus gets so annoyed with Albus," she said, but she laughed with her friend anyway.

* * *

A/N: Long chapter, had to cut it somewhere. Next chapter is the _PARTY!_


	44. Chapter 44: Celebrations

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine! Also thank you to JL, aka Kirasha who has stepped in to help as well—I love having two betas, they catch different things and make the story that much 'tighter'. I've been writing like a fiend to try and get done before HBP, so it is keeping them both very busy. Any remaining errors or roughness are my own. Please feel free to point them out!

* * *

Chapter 44: Celebrations

* * *

Bill Weasley ran the music. He set up the wireless and filled it with as many of the small wizarding music cubes as he could get his hands on. They were very small, not unlike small Muggle dice, but they each contained a great deal of music. By putting them inside the box, he could call on any song from any cube with a wave of his wand. There was a great variety of Muggle music as well as Wizarding music, as the Muggle Liaison Office and Wizarding Patents Department had arranged a lucrative agreement that allowed for the mingling trade. In truth, because of the sheer numbers of Muggles, they did have a much greater variety of music from which to choose.

"Alright, then, let's have the happy couple open the dancing for us now, shall we?" cried Bill Weasley over the first strands of "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.

In no time at all, Remus and Tonks were gliding about the room with relative ease (Tonks kept tripping over Remus's feet, but he held her up without difficulty) as the lighting dimmed slightly.

"The wedding party, please," Bill called out again after Remus and Tonks had been dancing alone for several minutes. Harry seemed taken by surprise at this and was blushing scarlet as Hestia lead him out into the designated 'dance floor'. At least he had grown considerably since his last rather disastrous 'dance' so that he was several inches taller than she was.

Rowena had forgotten about this particular tradition and did not expect Severus to willingly participate. She remembered his blatant dislike of dancing at the Malfoy's party. The music was loud enough to cover her soft cry of surprise when a strong arm slipped about her waist and all but pushed her forward, turning her to face him when they reached the dance floor.

"Surely you have not come this far only to break with tradition now, Lupin?" he asked sardonically as he gracefully moved them to the gentle rhythm of the music.

One hand remained at her waist as he captured one of her hands in his other, though he didn't try to pull her against him. At first, her free hand rested like a nervous butterfly against his chest. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and for a moment she was struck mute and unable to do anything but shake her head.

"I didn't expect you to want to dance. You don't like it," she said somewhat stupidly. Severed Bond or not, her body was already responding to his closeness so that her heart was thudding a traitorous tattoo against her ribs. His hand at her waist was firm and possessive, even without any exerted pressure to pull her closer.

"What experience do you have on the matter except Malfoy's fete where nothing is done without malicious purpose?" he asked with apparent amusement. "Admittedly I could list several score more productive things to do with my time, but then I could list a similar number of less pleasant as well. It is no hardship for me to dance, Lupin."

He then glanced at the chosen "DJ" for the night, and decided he needed to qualify that statement.

"Within reason."

She laughed and nodded.

"At least it isn't the twins in charge of the music," she said, a little breathlessly. It was requiring a great deal of effort to focus on the conversation rather than the confusion of her body. It was difficult to be this close to him, to have his fathomless black eyes gazing at her with that sheer intensity, and not wish to melt against him and drown in the sensations.

"The eldest boy is no better. He is merely more adept at hiding it," Severus said, one corner of his mouth quirking in amusement, as though he could read the internal war that raged inside her. She resolutely forced herself to converse on the mundane so as _not_ to get lost in her confused emotions.

"That was very nice, Severus, what you did for my brother. Thank you. I can't imagine it was easy for you," she said sincerely, her earnest brown eyes gazing at him as a gentle smile played about her lips.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said evasively.

"The cauldron and ingredients for his potion? Telling Tonks you'd teach her to make it? It's a very difficult potion; I've looked it up myself. I thought I might help out by offering to make it, until I looked at it. Besides how hard it is to make, the ingredients are expensive and difficult to come by."

"You'd blow up the cauldron on your first attempt," he said with exaggerated horror at the thought of her making the potion herself. "I think perhaps your father is the last Lupin with any remote skill at potions. No doubt it is a source of great sorrow to him."

She giggled and squeezed his hand. Her mind was distracted in trying to force her emotions and conversation into some semblance of control, so that her body was free to follow its own desires, unfettered by rational reasons why it was a 'really bad idea'. Without being aware of it, she had moved closer to him, her hand sliding up his chest to rest at his shoulder, fingers unconsciously toying in his hair.

Her rational mind attempted to continue conversation.

"You're trying to change the subject. It was a nice thing that you did for my brother. Admit it."

"You again attempt to assign benevolent intent to a selfish act," he said, "I will admit to no such thing. It is much easier and more economical for me to obtain the ingredients than it would be for the laity. Tonks was one of my more skilled students—no doubt a fact that helped her in her Auror training to cover for her deficiencies in other areas."

Tonks tripped at that moment as though to emphasize his statement, almost causing both her and Remus to fall before Remus managed to right them.

"I will be relieved of an odious task by someone both competent enough and personally motivated enough to do it properly," he said airily, though she smiled at him suspiciously, revealing that she remained unconvinced.

"Why can't you just say 'you're welcome', admit you did something nice, and have done?" she asked, teasingly. "Or, if you don't like that option, you could say something sweet and flowery about how you did it for me, to make me happy, since he's my brother or something. You might as well take the credit anyway, don't you think?"

Her rational mind was losing this battle entirely, as she slipped from polite conversation to teasing flirtation without even being aware of the deterioration.

"I do not do 'nice', Lupin," he said warningly, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. "If I did do it 'for you', it would hardly plead my case if I then went about boasting about it. Besides, your brother is not so repugnant as I once thought and it does relieve me of the task at a time when every minute feels precious. It was as much an act of selfishness as benevolence at the very least. I would appear the troll had I not offered some substantial gift in light of the circumstances. Do not read more into a simple action than exists."

She sighed, though she was still smiling, and shook her head.

"You're very stubborn. Suit yourself. I still think it was surprisingly thoughtful considering your history with him. I think you did it to be nice."

"And you say that **_I_** am stubborn?" he said dryly, but offered no further argument as he danced with her. He was not unaware of her nearness, of the apparently unconscious way that her soft, warm curves moved against him as though she had melded with him so that they were one body rather than two. He was by no means displeased with the development, and allowed his hand to slide from her waist to the small of her back to bring them closer still.

"Let's bring those parents in, you two," Bill's magically magnified voice said over the music, and Remus obligingly relinquished Tonks to her father and brought his mother into the dance.

"You appear well pleased with the day's events," Severus said as he looked down at her. She was smiling happily as she watched her brother and his new bride dance with their respective parents. He was pleased to feel her relax in his arms even further. Her hand at his shoulder strayed to the nape of his neck, her fingers toying through the hair and sensitive skin there. She was so close that the flowers in her hair brushed against his jaw when she nodded.

"Remus has been very lonely for a very long time. I forgot how much I missed him when we were at odds. I'm very happy for him. It was a beautiful wedding."

"Why is that the obligatory compliment for these things?" He asked, genuinely curious. "I have heard it said repeatedly today, "a lovely wedding" as though the perfection of the ceremony has any bearing whatever on the success of the union. I find it all a great deal of inconvenience and do not understand the level of importance placed on the event."

"Ah, well, it's plain that you haven't spent much time with girls, then," she teased. He merely arched a brow at her and she continued, her voice edged with laughter.

"Talk to Katrina about it and you might get an inkling. It's the very rare woman who hasn't dreamed about her wedding day since hearing her first fairy tale. Maybe it's silly to place so much importance on the event itself, but it's the most momentous, life changing decision that most women will make in their lifetimes. A girl wants to celebrate it, make it something wonderful and magical; because it's something she's dreamed about her entire life and will remember for the rest of it. It matters."

He thought about the very great contrast between their clandestine 'wedding'—it had barely taken ten minutes and the majority of that was the Bonding ritual—and this affair. This seemed quite extravagant by comparison, even though in truth it was relatively modest due to the need for security.

"Is this what _you_ wanted?" he asked softly, probing the slightly uncomfortable silence, wondering if her mind was likewise occupied. "All this… fuss and noise and _people_?"

She caught his tone of disdain, as well as the meaning behind the glance that he cast about the room. She was no longer smiling, but frowning slightly as though trying to decide how to answer. At last she shrugged.

"Yes. To you it's noise and people. To Remus and Tonks it's sharing the joy of their special day with their friends and family. What's not to want?"

"It was impossible in our situation," he said, almost defensively. She nodded.

"I know. It didn't seem to matter at the time anyway. I'd given up the idea of ever getting married at all a long time ago, so the absence of the 'story book wedding' didn't seem like any great sacrifice. It sort of turned out to be impossible altogether didn't it?" she said wryly. He seemed unable to find an appropriate answer to that, and fell silent.

Rowena had time to contemplate her feelings as she and Severus dropped their attempted conversation and simply danced together. The uncomfortable topic did not altogether banish her body's response to him, nor would she have wanted it to. She allowed herself to be aware of her body's instinctual response to his touch. Her impractical heels made her tall enough to be able to rest her head against his shoulder as they danced. He tightened his arm about her almost imperceptibly, as though he, too, wanted to be as close as possible.

The ache of the Bond was vastly improved when he held her like this and the sense of familiarity was warm and safe, even as the stirrings of desire made her feel restless, almost electrified; she ought to have felt contented. However, there was that part of her that still felt badly 'burned', so that she also felt wary. It was such a confusing dichotomy that it robbed the dance of much of its enjoyment, so that she was only a little sorry when it ended.

"Here's a new song just released by a Muggle Singer in the U.S.," said Bill again as the next tune began. ""Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle. We have our lovely bride to thank for requesting this song for her father-daughter dance. Very touching. Let's have all those dads and daughters out here now."

Rowena squeezed Severus' hand and smiled shyly at him before leaving him to find her father. Ted and Tonks wasted no time getting to the dance floor, quickly followed by Arthur and Ginny Weasley and a few other father-daughter pairings from the families that Severus did not know. A tug on the leg of his trousers drew his attention downward, so that he found himself staring into Katrina's bright-blue eyes.

"Katrina, you ought to dance with Remus," he said at once, understanding her intent immediately and looking about the room to find the werewolf.

"Severus," Remus materialized just behind him, having just left the dance floor with his mother. He apparently understood what was going on, however, because he offered his opinion—unasked. "She wants you to do it. Go on."

Severus frowned at Remus and would have argued, except that he happened to see Rowena watching them from where she was dancing with her father. She had been talking and laughing with John only a moment before, but now a worried frown marred her brow as she looked at Katrina and Severus.

Katrina would not be the only person disappointed in him if he refused. Severus looked back into the entreating face of the child, and relented.

"Very well, come then," he said. Katrina squealed with delight and skipped out to the dance floor holding tight to his hand as though afraid he would change his mind. Rowena was smiling radiantly again, though she was looking at her father and apparently trying to pretend she hadn't noticed the exchange.

Severus couldn't decide if he was more irritated with himself for giving in so easily, or because of how satisfied he felt to know that a simple gesture had made both of 'his' girls so happy… or because he was still thinking of them as 'his' girls even now.

The lyrics were indeed 'touching'. In fact they were excessively sappy for Severus' taste, though he saw more than one daughter daubing at tears, and Ted Tonks had a trail running unashamedly down his face. As he listened to the lyrics he realized that sappy or not, they did seem to convey meaning for many of the dancers.

_"In all that I've done wrong I know I must_

_have done something right to deserve a hug_

_every morning and butterfly kisses at night."_

He found it annoying, serving no purpose for him but to remind him what he was going to lose—what he never had to begin with—when the werewolf and his new bride adopted the child with whom he was now dancing.

He stopped listening to the words, and instead paid attention to his diminutive partner.

Katrina was beaming at him. He tried to pick her up so that she didn't have to strain her neck to look up at him, but she insisted that she wanted to 'dance', not be 'carried like a baby'. She was trying to watch his feet but kept tripping herself up, which resulted in peals of giggles.

In the end he had her stand on his feet, utterly ruining the shine of his dark shoes, and proceeded to dance her about in intricate patterns that had her giggling all the more.

She allowed herself to be picked up when the song was over, and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him very softly on the cheek before squirming down and running off once again. Suddenly he understood more of the song's meaning, or at least the reference to 'butterfly kisses'. He angrily squashed the additional regrets to his constantly growing litany and walked sedately out of the dance area.

"Alright, folks, we've got the traditions out of the way, let's have some real _DANCING!_" Bill exclaimed over the music now blasting from the wireless.

* * *

"No, Katrina. I do _not_ 'Hokey Cokey'," said Severus in a tone that would clearly brook no argument. Katrina gave up relatively quickly this time, and joined Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny as a large number of the revelers made a circle and began to… "Put your right hand in; take your right hand out…"

She had unsuccessfully tried to get him to do 'The Macarena', join in 'The Birdie Dance', do 'The Twist', or learn 'The Hand Jive'. Apparently Ted Tonks' selection of American music did not revolve entirely around disco, but it was almost universally undignified.

Severus sat at a table near the dance floor and observed. Rowena did not seem to share his aversion to foolishness, and graced the Cowboy with her presence more often than he liked. The gaudily dressed fop held her hands while she learned 'The Twist', so that she wouldn't break her ankle in the impractical high-heeled shoes she was wearing. The imbecile stumbled and laughed his way through 'The Macarena' and was even now standing next to her 'shaking all about' as they did the 'Hokey Cokey'.

On the rare occasions when something relatively tasteful was played, Severus did dance, in contrast to his behavior at the Malfoy's fete. He did not even limit himself to dancing only with Rowena or Katrina, though that was more to distract himself from having to watch her dance with Howard. He told himself it was to prevent people from getting 'ideas' about their relationship if he paid her too much attention.

He danced once with Becky Lupin, who was all warm friendliness; still thanking him profusely for his actions that saved her son's life. One dance with Tonks (who did far more damage to the shine on his shoes than Katrina had done) and once each with Emmeline and Hestia—because they had asked him and it seemed too rude to refuse in light of the setting.

The two Aurors seemed determined to try and get him to admit some 'juicy detail' of his relationship with Rowena, but they might as well have tried to pry secrets out of a stone for all they gained in the attempt. He was not particularly rude to them and danced gracefully enough, but his intense gaze and the majority of his attention were firmly placed elsewhere—totally ruining his careful subterfuge for anyone observant enough to notice.

When the 'Hokey Cokey' was blessedly over, the Cowboy went over to Bill and handed him several cubes that were likely a selection of his own music. Severus watched with horrified anticipation. Surely nothing that man enjoyed could be anything short of violent assault to the auditory nerves!

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Professor Howard has offered to teach us a dance from America, and brought some of his own music to share so we can learn it. I'm turning the wireless over to him for a bit," said Bill with apparent delight.

Dylan was in the same outlandish 'Rhinestone Cowboy' outfit that Dumbledore had conjured at the bachelor party. It still glittered obnoxiously in spite of the absence of the mirrored ball and strobe lights.

"This here's what folks back home call 'Country Western' music. Got some of the better stuff here. I got Garth Brooks, "Friends in Low Places," and some country remakes of "Peaceful Easy Feeling," "Tequila Sunrise," and "Lyin' Eyes." Got a whole mess of it to be honest, but that oughta get us started. I'm fixin' to teach y'all how to do what we call The Texas Two-Step. It's plumb easy once yah get the hang of it. Rowena, wanna help me out?" Dylan asked, as the twang of a guitar began to fill the room.

Rowena looked a little surprised at being singled out, but stepped forward smilingly.

"Okay, so, here's all yah do. Think kinda like a glidin' rockin' horse, or smooth skippin'. Yer not really s'posed to bounce; though it kinda feels that way. It's a two-step pattern—that's where it gets the name, see? Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, slow, quick, quick. Don't bounce on yer feet, yah gotta rock and glide," he said, demonstrating alone first so that everyone could see his feet clearly as he danced with an invisible partner. "Now, like ev'ry grand dance, it looks a might better with a purdy gal doin' it too."

He swept Rowena into his arms and began to 'two-step' her about the room. The Garth Brooks song had a fairly rapid beat so that they were sweeping a wide path around the dance floor, her long skirt trailing behind. She was laughing and occasionally stumbling to keep up. Eventually she had to pause to kick off her shoes—the high heels were simply too wobbly.

Dylan held her close to help her keep her balance and make it easier for her to 'follow', one arm tightly around her waist while he held her hand with the other. She held onto him to stabilize herself to make the step easier, but gradually got the 'hang' of it and followed him more easily. Soon others joined in; when Hagrid grabbed Emmeline, people stepped backward so as not to be trampled in his exuberance.

"Ya're doin' grand!" Dylan said loudly, to be heard over the music.

"If I am, it's because you're a good teacher," Rowena said, laughingly. "I haven't really danced much, certainly not like this!"

Katrina and one of the Weasley twins were nearby, also trying to 'Texas Two-Step' but with much less success than Dylan and Rowena were having. However, they were having a grand time in the attempt, both laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

Rowena became suspicious when Dylan seemed to deliberately return to the same area of the dance floor, seemingly randomly.

"Dylan," she said at last, giving him a no-nonsense sort of look. "What are you really up to?"

"Who, me?" he asked with false innocence. When her expression made it clear that she didn't believe it for an instant, he ducked his head so he could whisper in her ear. "Don' look now, but yer beau is wishin' me to Hades and back. If he could kill with that glare, I'd be a dead man. I just figured I'd help out a friend, that's all. Sometimes a fella don't know what he's got until he thinks another fella's got it instead, see?"

"Dylan! That's horrible," she squealed, though she couldn't help laughing. "It will never work, you know. Honestly. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but don't, okay? Things are… confusing enough without adding to the mess."

"Ah. Alright, then. I was only tryin' to help," he said.

"I know. Thank you. This is something Severus and I have to work out—or not—on our own," she said, sincerely. Wasn't that part of the problem? They'd been thrown together artificially first by Albus then by the Dark Lord; she knew the only way they'd find some kind of resolution was if they managed to do it without deliberate external manipulations.

Bill allowed the 'Country Western' music to play through several more songs. The lyrics seemed to become progressively more mournful and woebegone, though the dancers didn't seem to notice as they 'two-stepped' about the room, occasionally running into one another from lack of attention and too much champagne. Dylan never relinquished Rowena as his partner, so that his white rhinestone outfit against her blue dress reminded one of a cheerful white cloud against a smiling blue sky.

The menacing dark cloud that was Severus Snape glowered from a shadowy corner near one of the leafy alcoves.

"Well, that was quite a lesson, Professor Howard, thanks!" said Bill cheerfully as the last twanging strands of the music died down and the dancers stopped. Everyone was more than a little breathless. "We've seen an example of some American dancing. Let's repay the Professor in kind! It's time to bring on the Big Band music!"

Many people, particularly the older ones, cheered at this and headed out to the dance floor, while the Weasley children, Harry and Hermione left the area to observe. The Weasley twins were rolling their eyes at the others; clearly doubting there could be much of interest in something as old fashioned as 'Big Band Music'.

Dylan and Rowena were standing together near the edge of the dance floor, watching some of the other couples already there (Dumbledore was leading Minerva through an elaborate Swing), when Severus approached them from behind.

"Has the cowboy fatigued you from his native rain-dance, Lupin?" he asked her, casting a dark glare at the taller man next to her. "If not, perhaps you would assist me in demonstrating how _civilized_ people dance?"

"Severus!" she exclaimed reprovingly. Dylan, however, laughed.

"Never seen much fun in bein' civilized," he drawled with a grin, unintimidated by Severus' glower.

"Obviously," Severus said with a sneer. He bared his teeth in a savage mockery of a smile, while taking Rowena's hand possessively. Once in the dance area he pulled her to face him, still holding her hand, his other hand firmly encircling her waist.

"Is that your idea of 'fun', Lupin? Are you and Howard planning a lovely Celidh for your nuptials? Perhaps you might have time to teach him to 'Strip the Willow' before the happy event?" he said with an angry sneer.

"What are you on about?" she asked, both annoyed and amused. She was still breathless from the energetic Two-Step, and now he was guiding her through a Quick Step that required a similar amount of exertion. "I'm sure if Dylan ever gets married, he will have a grand Texas-style Barn Dance complete with something he calls the 'Cotton-Eyed Joe", but it won't be with me. At least Dylan knows how to have a good time and enjoy himself."

"And I do not?" he asked, picking up the implication with ease. "I had not expected you to have such low standards. Engaging in jocularity and foolishness in the pursuit of amusement."

"What is with you?" she asked, her annoyance increasing. "If you're so miserable here, leave. Go to bed. Work on your potions. Whatever you want to do—why should it matter to you that the rest of us are having a good time? It's a marriage—my _brother's_ marriage. We are _celebrating_.

"You know what, I think Dylan was right. I think you're jealous!" she said, though she was even now too naïve to think the jealousy had anything to do with her, personally. It more seemed a matter of male pride and prowess.

"You are raving," he said disdainfully.

"Am I?" she asked, looking into his angry face thoughtfully. "You're not jealous because I danced so much with Dylan, are you? I was just having fun—he's a good dancer. It's not that big of a deal—look at Tonks, she can barely stay on her own two feet, but she's having fun. You don't have to be good at dancing to enjoy it."

He looked at her incredulously. The music changed at that moment, and he gave her a wicked grin that none the less spoke more of anger than amusement.

"Do you think Narcissa Black-Malfoy would allow anyone to be associated with her family as intimately as I have been and not force them through tedious instruction in all of the 'crucial' social niceties? I refused to dance at her parties, I was not permitted to refuse to _learn_ to do it."

He then proceeded to lead her through an elaborate series of very formal dances, each in turn, spending only a few complete cycles on any given step. He did this with familiar, practiced ease that ought to have been fun, but instead managed to have the edge of anger. She had never had the benefit of lessons, nor was she blessed with any extraordinary amount of natural grace, so that it was all she could do to stay on her feet and try to follow as he led. Many of the steps she didn't even know by name.

She recognized the relatively sedate Fox Trot, and the much faster Swing. He continued to increase the pace and complexity of the steps, swirling her about until the Swing morphed seamlessly into a Jive that was even faster. In spite of his 'display', their actions seemed unnoticed amidst the rest of the dancers and guests. Most were having too much fun or too far-gone in champagne to have any notice for relative strangers.

Unbeknownst to her, he was gradually leading them closer to one edge of the room, near one of the small alcoves surrounding it. When the music stopped, he took her by the arm and slipped inside it, using simple concealment and privacy charms at the entrance to seal it behind them.

"Just because I choose NOT to do a thing, does not imply I am incapable of it, Lupin," he snarled. "If the Cowboy suits your tastes, then I have been gravely mistaken in my estimation of you—and in my own aspirations for the future. This is not a role into which I would ever 'fit'."

"What are you talking about?" she asked in frustration, still breathless from dancing.

"Is it not clear enough? I have told you I wish to be given the opportunity to attempt to repair our…" He waved his hand between them, apparently at a loss for the proper word. "…our relationship. I was under the impression that you were not unwilling to permit the attempt.

"Having now witnessed… _that_," he said contemptuously, now directing his negligent wave in the direction of the reception and the revelers in the next room, "I do not think such a repair is possible. I cannot be what you want. I am unwilling to behave like a court jester in the name of amusement."

"Severus, I never expected you to be anything other than yourself," she said in slightly tired exasperation. He shrugged off her words in silent disbelief, pacing about the small space in his agitation.

"A relationship cannot be salvaged if one party no longer desires it," he said bitterly, not looking at her. "I am unwilling to play the fool or waste my time. What is the nature of your relationship with Dylan Howard?"

She looked at him in silent astonishment. He really WAS jealous! She was torn between feeling amused and feeling very angry. HE was the one who pushed her away, now he was accusing HER of playing him for a fool? She thought of telling him the truth of Dylan's… sexual preference, but it wasn't hers to tell. Besides, Severus ought to trust her because he trusted HER, not because his 'competition' was gay!

"Dylan is my friend."

"He asked you to marry him," he said, shooting her an accusatory glare. "Did you plan to tell me about that?"

"He asked me when I was upset about Katrina. He knew you and I had broken off, and he was trying to be nice."

"How very _kind_," Severus sneered.

"Stop it! I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was an issue. I said no. I don't like him 'that way', and he doesn't feel 'that way' about me, either."

He stopped his pacing to look at her, his soul-piercing gaze pinning her to the spot in its intensity. Something in the expression made her heart start beating painfully fast again. Very slowly and deliberately he prowled closer to her. Involuntarily, she stepped backward, overwhelmed by his sheer _presence_. She stopped only when her back hit solid wall and its thin covering of fragrant flowering vines.

He was only inches from her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body mingling with her own to radiate between them like a barely banked fire. Her breathing hitched again so that she felt as winded as when they had been dancing.

"What _'way'_ would that be, precisely?" he asked in low, silken tones as he stared down at her with his intense gaze.

"_This_ way," she all but whimpered, struggling mightily not to close that final distance between them and lose herself in his embrace, taste his kisses again, _feel_ like only he could make her feel.

"I see," he said, with the slightest hint of smugness. She could see his pulse at his throat and recognized the impossible darkening of his eyes as he looked at her. "Who does make you feel '_this way_', I wonder?"

Anger flared more sharply within her, vying with desire at his question. He knew already! Was it necessary to gloat, to torment her with memories of what they had shared and was now gone? How often did she have to tell him _her_ feelings when he was so closed with _his_?

But there seemed to be a great deal of insecurity in his actions and the distress that lead them here into this alcove. He seemed, even now to be waiting for her answer with baited breath, an edge of wariness in his expression that suggested he was bracing himself for rejection.

She knew she was making him pursue her, that her apathy since he severed the Bond was an enormous obstacle for both of them. He apparently needed some 'sign' from her that there was hope for them. Somewhere within this display of his vulnerability, she found the ability to give it.

"Only you, Severus," she said, so softly it was barely more than a whisper.

A soft sigh escaped him as he released the breath he had indeed been holding. The wariness left his countenance to leave only the newly stoked desire smoldering in his eyes. His hand reached up to caress her cheek; gentle fingers tucked a silken strand of hair behind her delicate ear before cupping her jaw tenderly.

"For me as well, Rowena," he said, just as softly but with utter sincerity. For an instant, there was no mask; no pretense, no hiding, and she basked in the warmth of his expression. "Only you."

He bent his head and caressed her lips with a kiss that he intended to be soft and gentle, a chaste promise of hope for future kisses. He had promised her as well as himself that he would not rush this, would not damage the fragile newness of what he was trying so desperately to rebuild.

It seemed that nothing between them could be soft and gentle. She moaned softly against his lips when they brushed hers, rising up on her still-bare toes to meet the kiss, her hands supporting herself against his chest. He had rarely spoken so tenderly of his feelings for her. His return admission was like a balm to her battered heart, soothing away her anger so that all that was left was longing. Her body yearned for his touch, his kiss; she could no more contain her response to him than extinguish the sun with her wand. Her encouragement tempted his resolve so that he deepened the kiss.

Just a taste… 

Now it was his sound of longing that filled the air as her tongue met his in glorious welcome. The taste of her was both familiar and new, an almost forgotten pleasure that he had thought never to taste of again. His hand on her face slipped around her to pull her closer to him, his fingers playing once again in the silken strands of her hair.

Rowena met each stroke of his tongue with her own, her arms winding around his neck, clinging to him desperately. Her body sung like a too-taught violin string, the sweet tension of desire filling her almost as soon as the first brush of his lips met hers. If he ended one kiss, she initiated the next, nibbling her teeth against his lower lip, her tongue seeking entrance into the moist heat of his mouth. If she ended the kiss, he merely trailed fresh kisses along her jaw to her ear before returning to reclaim her lips again, as though afraid to lose the contact now that it had been renewed. It seemed a timeless eternity of bliss, reacquainting, relearning; a reminder of what had been, a hopeful glimpse of what could possibly be again.

Her body responded to his kisses with an instant ignition of desire. Her heart, however, recoiled in fear, afraid or unable to renew her feelings for him, unable to bear the thought of being hurt like that again. She pulled away from the beckoning pleasure of his kisses with a pained cry and buried her face against his chest, trembling violently.

"I can't do this again," she said, her mournful voice muffled in the fabric of his robes. "I'm sorry… I just can't. I'm too afraid."

It was an interesting reversal of roles. For most of last summer and fall, she had been striving to earn his trust. Now, he was in the position of having to try to repair her trust in him at the deepest level, having shattered it so completely. He held her gently in his arms and rested his jaw against the flowers in her hair.

"Do not apologize. I understand. I have no claim to question your sentiments toward myself, or your behavior with other men. I will endeavor to be less intrusive," he said resignedly, though he didn't loosen his grasp of her nor attempt to move away.

She shook her head and leaned back against the wall behind her, giving enough space between them that she could look at him comfortably.

"No. You don't understand at all. There are no other men, Severus—surely you _know_ that by now? I don't know if that helps with this whole 'repairing' thing or not, but I don't want you to think there's someone else. We have enough trouble with misunderstandings as it is without throwing imaginary ones into the mix. I don't know if I can ever love you again like I did—but I know I won't ever love anyone else."

He stared at her silently as she spoke, and for a time after. He shook his head in bemusement and caressed her face again, as though unable to believe she was real.

"You are quite extraordinary. I do not deserve your kindness in any form, especially after what I have done to you. Yet here you stand, offering me the reassurances that I did not realize I needed to hear."

He wanted to promise to fix everything, to earn her trust again, never to hurt her again, never to leave her again—but he could not, on any level. The war still raged; the same obstacles were there, unchanged, no matter how he might rail internally at the unfairness of it. He could offer her no promises until the war was over—if he survived.

"I hope to earn your trust again, Rowena."

She smiled tremulously and hugged him again, but said nothing. The muffled noise of the reception suddenly became louder, more raucous than it had yet been, and he took her by the hand to return to the main room.

"It sounds like your brother and his bride have been caught attempting to sneak out of their own party," he said with amusement. "Isn't that the final tradition? The bride and groom are supposed to try and slip away unnoticed, while the guests are supposed to make certain that they fail at the attempt? You ought to go and join in the fray."

Sure enough, Tonks was blushing scarlet and Remus was grinning sheepishly, both of them standing near the door. Someone apparently had enchanted it to alarm if they tried to leave, which it was still doing, a magically magnified wolf-whistle that was clear even over the music and laughter of the guests. All attention was turned to the door toward the newlyweds, many of the guests joining in the magical alarm with cat-calls and whistles of their own. The older Weasley boys and some of Ted's relations tossed out suggestive comments that made Tonks bury her face against Remus' shoulder in her embarrassment.

"Very funny," Remus said loudly, having to shout to be heard over the noise. "You've had your fun, now whoever sealed this door can come and open it now, please."

No one came forward, of course, and Remus tried several spells without success. Even his gentle good-humor was being tested it seemed, and he all but growled in frustration.

"Where is my sister? Ah, Rowena—there you are… will you _please_ see if you can open this door—or better yet, identify the delightful person who sealed it so that I can make them do it?"

The crowd laughed at the 'threat' as Rowena made her way forward and examined the door. Flitwick came over as well once he realized that Remus really couldn't open it, and she demurred to his expertise. It even took him several minutes to get it open, but he was chuckling cheerfully all the while. He took his charms very seriously, and was always delighted to come across an especially strong one. The Weasley twins were standing with Ron and Harry with amused, politely curious expressions that managed to look far more suspicious than their usual mischievous grins.

At last the door was open, and with a quick hug to his sister and a wave to the room at large, Remus took his new bride and made their 'escape'. Several people ran to the astronomy tower and up the stairs so they could wave the carriage off. The Weasley twins were among the first in the crowd, even though it was difficult to run properly with the heavy box carried between them. Rowena followed, hesitatingly because of her fear of the height. The sounds of the twins' fireworks echoed down the stairs before she was even halfway up.

It was well after midnight, and Dumbledore received word from Sir Nicholas that all students except those at the wedding were accounted for in their beds, so Severus felt safe enough to follow as well. He slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her up the stairs. She held onto him tightly, but with his strong presence she made it all the way to the parapet to wave with the majority of the other guests. The twins' fireworks were spectacular, if a bit lewd—Rowena was quite certain that the horseback figure chasing the carriage was meant to be Lady Godiva!

Several clunky shoes dragged noisily behind the carriage, to the annoyance of the thestrals pulling it. Remus and Tonks hung out of the carriage windows to wave back at the castle, and were soon lost to sight in the dark night. The rest of the guests slowly trickled back down the stairs to the Room of Requirement to gather their belongings before heading home.

Rowena seemed content just to stand there in the peaceful evening, staring with a wistful smile at the path where the carriage had disappeared. These fireworks seemed to be of the more 'normal' variety, as they eventually faded gently into the night, a few remaining enough to cast a faint glow as they continued, presumably, to chase the carriage. Severus stayed with her, equally content to hold her safely in his arms—pleased that she felt safe enough with him to stay in the tower as the silence of the night blanketed them.

He had to admit to himself, here alone with her, surrounded by the brilliantly starry night in the castle's highest tower, that it did feel a little like a fairy tale. Perhaps, if he ever managed to convince her to marry him again, he would do the thing properly next time. If she gave him 'veto' power over the music choices, that is.

* * *

A/N: Sorry I'm behind on my updates, I know I usually do it Saturday. Please see my LiveJournal at weasleyfan if you would like more descriptions/definitions than what I have here:

Ceilidh is a sort of party that is predominately Celtic (thanks JL) but it is mentioned on HPBritglish as being a common sort of 'party' for wedding receptions. Very fun, energetic, lots of music/drinking/carrying on, and very laid back. In the U.S., our equivalent, at least in my neck of the woods, would be a barn dance. In this reference, please assume that the Pureblood Elite of the Wizarding world look down upon a grand old Ceilidh as being 'common'.

"Strip the Willow" is a dance name given to me from the same LJ community as being a big group dance that is a little wild and a tad risqué. One person said it was the sort of dance you did after the Grandma's went to bed.

"Cotton-eyed-Joe" is the name of a dance popular in areas of Texas (thanks again Surgical Steel).

Basically, Severus was deriding the cowboy. Is anyone surprised? Heh.

Comments and reviews are lovingly adored.


	45. Chapter 45: Goodbyes

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL, aka Kirasha who have both stepped up the to the challenge marvelously as I scramble to finish this before HBP! Any remaining errors or mistakes are my own—please feel free to point them out!

I do not own the musical piece mentioned in the fic, credit is given to the appropriate artists and no copyright infringement is intended.

I have to add thanks to a reader, 'Lady Claire' who is from Germany. She has helped me with some language things that I wanted to be able to express between Severus and Katrina, so that now I can do so coherently. Translations are in the A/N at the end of the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 45: Good-byes

* * *

End of year exams began the Monday after the wedding, so that there was little time to be spent in socializing for any of the teachers. It was indeed Dumbledore who assumed Harry's more intensive Occlumency training. His sessions with Rowena ceased altogether for the rest of the term so he could focus on revision. There were also intense but brief and very clandestine meetings with Severus, which neither individual would discuss with Rowena.

The need to oversee exams turned out to be an unexpected boon for Severus. He normally loathed them almost as much as the students did. Not the _giving_ of the exam, of course, but the tedious process of correction where he was forced to deal with the sheer idiocy of the vast majority of his students. However, it was because of the exams that he was spared any lengthy 'interviews' with the Dark Lord when he made his excursions to attend the potion.

He did manage to spend time each day with Rowena, even if it was only to sit in silence late in the evening while they marked exams. He had feared that she would be timid and on-edge with him again since he kissed her at the wedding, but surprisingly she was not. It seemed the mutual reassurance of that conversation strengthened the tenuous restoration of her trust. She often would sit very close to him on her sofa and lean her head against his shoulder as she made her way through exams and essays. He never imagined himself as the sort to tolerate such proximity from any person for any length of time, and so was newly surprised at how pleasant he found it. It helped that she was left-handed and he right, as they both had free use of their quills even when their off-hands ended up entwined between them.

On the Wednesday after the wedding, Remus and Tonks settled into 12 Grimmauld Place as their residence, and took Katrina with them. Rowena and her parents helped them. Severus had not involved himself in the proceedings because he thought it would be easier for Katrina if he was not present.

The choice of location was not quite so horrible as might be imagined. Dumbledore had removed Kreacher from the place upon Sirius's death—the House Elf 'belonged' to Harry to do with as he saw fit, and Harry had 'given' the elf to Dumbledore when he gave the Headmaster the house itself. Severus had no idea where the creature was, but knowing Dumbledore, it was someplace 'humane'.

When Black left the house to Harry, many of the enchantments tied to the Black Family were weakened, so that the Permanent Sticking Charm holding up the hideous portrait and the Family tree were at last negated, as well as a myriad of other dark and unpleasant things. At some point, Dumbledore then 'gave' the House to Tonks, thereby restoring and strengthening some of the other enchantments specific to the bloodline so as to maintain its superb level of security. Molly Weasley, Becky Lupin, Andromeda and Tonks worked on the house tirelessly after the engagement was announced, so that it had ceased being a place of darkness. The Order would still continue to use it as Headquarters, but it was also now home to the new Lupin family.

Rowena was mopey and tearful after the move, having been used to seeing Katrina every day, often multiple times a day. Severus was not completely unaffected himself, though his discomposure displayed itself in the increased complexity of his exam material. He hadn't even said 'goodbye' to Katrina, unable to face that display. He thought he had internally resigned himself to her adoption by the lycanthrope and was annoyed to discover that he was upset by it.

* * *

Katrina had been gone a week. He was sitting in Rowena's office, using her tall workbench to grade papers, as he had done for almost the last fortnight. She would come in soon with her own stack of exam papers, and they would move to the sofa to sit in companionable silence and mark.

Except that today she came in, her eyes red-rimmed and sniffling, carrying a bundle gently wrapped in a soft pink blanket. For a moment, Severus remembered his tiny infant sister who had been about that size. He looked up from his papers and merely stared at her; his gut clenched painfully with some unknown emotion.

"Katrina forgot baby Sophie," she said, looking up at him miserably, tucking the blanket around the doll. "She was the first doll I ever gave her, do you remember? That second time we visited her in the hospital? What if she can't sleep without her? Why didn't Remus or Tonks come get the doll? Don't they know she needs baby Sophie?"

Rowena burst into tears, clutching the doll as she sobbed wretchedly. Severus was completely at a loss for what to do, but in the end did the only thing that made any sense at all. He sat down his quill and crossed the room so that he could wrap her in his arms, holding her while she wept.

"I didn't know I wanted her so badly," she cried against his chest. "She was mine, in my heart. I didn't know it would hurt this much to give her up… even to Remus… I miss her so much already."

He closed his eyes painfully, pulling her closer to him. His mind's eye was seeing and remembering the echo of his child-self saying similar things to his mother in regards to his sister.

"I know, Rowena," he admitted softly, surprising even himself. "I wanted her, too."

She squeezed him tighter, grateful for the admission and the shared loss. They had determined not to visit her any more often than would be appropriate for extended family, not wanting to undermine her ability to settle in with Remus and Tonks.

Katrina had been sulky for days as the wedding drew nearer and the ensuing adoption more imminent. However, Remus and Tonks took her out one afternoon for a 'family outing' to discuss it and she came back in much better spirits. She still cried when Rowena left the house after helping her move, but it was nothing like the tantrum Rowena had been expecting.

"I need to go see her," she said decisively, pulling away from him and swiping her hand over her face. "Just to take baby Sophie. She might be asleep by now anyway. I just need to see her."

She looked imploringly at him. "Will you come with me? Please?"

He sighed and toyed with her braid, uncharacteristically uncertain. He wanted to see Katrina as well, but he didn't feel it was in the best interests of the child.

"Why don't you floo your brother. Ask him what he thinks. We need to allow them determine what is best for her now. If he agrees, then I will accompany you."

She beamed at him through her still tear-streaked face, and hurried to the fireplace. She called for Remus and in an instant his head appeared in her fire.

"Sure, Rowena! I told you that you could visit as often as you like, and I meant it. She'll be thrilled to see you." He turned his head enough in the fire to be able to see Severus as well, and included him in his enthusiastic invitation. "You too, Severus, honestly. She's supposed to be in bed by now of course, but she had to have 'one more drink of water', so she's in the kitchen with Tonks. C'mon over."

Rowena wasted no time putting her papers in her desk and sealing it. Severus, however, was putting away his own things with the slow deliberation that spoke of reluctance.

"Do you think it is wise, Lupin?" he asked the still smiling, disembodied head in the fire. "It is not our desire to make things more difficult for the child, or to undermine the establishment of your parental authority. Perhaps it is too soon."

"Severus, Katrina needs all the love and support she can get. You're not undermining anything. In fact, I think you'd hurt her feelings if you didn't come. It took some doing to get you out of the crup house for not saying a proper goodbye as it is," Remus said.

Severus gave the lycanthrope's head a disdainful look, but refrained from saying anything scathing.

"Well, step back then," said Rowena excitedly, "We're coming through."

With a soft 'pop' Remus's head was gone from the fire. Severus closed and warded her office and scanned for surveillance wards before he would let her ready the floo powder to leave.

"You really are as bad as Moody you know," she teased him, before throwing the powder into the flames. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

Severus could already hear Katrina's excited squeals and happy chatter before he had completely stopped spinning in the floo. He stepped out gracefully but had no time to magic the soot from his robes when another loud squeal filled the room and the child all but leaped into his arms.

Severus tried mightily to cling to his cool dignity, even as he caught her easily and returned her hug.

"Na, mein Engelchen," he said gently.

Rowena was beaming, waving her wand to remove soot from her robes, 'baby Sophie' already half forgotten on the kitchen table. Remus was standing, facing the floo, leaning against the table, while Tonks was getting tea and biscuits, though her attention, too, was focused on their visitors, particularly Severus and Katrina.

"You din't come say 'bye," she pouted at him, even as she squeezed his neck tightly enough to cause him to feel light-headed. "I was real mad. Uncle Remus says you hadda teach dunderheads and couldn't come. What's dunderheads?"

Dignity failed him, and he laughed out loud.

"Dunderheads are what little children become if they don't listen to their parents and pay attention to their teachers," he said, still smiling slightly as he carried her to the table and sat her upon it. He withdrew a white handkerchief from a pocket and began to wipe the soot away from her face. "Genau wie du kleiner

Frechdachs!"

She giggled.

"Now, why is it that you are still out of bed at this late hour, Engelchen?" he chided gently. "I thought we had agreed that you were going to be good for your parents?"

Katrina frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but Remus cut in.

"She's good as gold, Severus," Remus said, and Tonks nodded her agreement. "I might lose my voice reading so much, but other than that, we're getting on grand."

When Katrina looked at Remus, he appeared to give the slightest shake of his head, and her little mouth closed on whatever she was about to say.

Severus missed the nonverbal exchange between the child and the werewolf, still trying ineffectually to de-soot Katrina's face and pajamas.

"I think you're going to have to have a bath again, missy," said Tonks. "I told you to give them a chance to clean up before you hugged them, remember? Want to give me a hand, Rowena?"

"I'd love to," she said quickly, and moved over to collect Katrina, while Severus looked vaguely dismayed.

"It was not our intent for our visit to cause inconvenience," he said, almost apologetically, finally finding his wand-hand free enough to perform the soot-removing charm on his robes. It was very effective for the superficial soot from the trip, but by the time Katrina had hugged them both, she had the substance ground into her enough that a simple charm would not be sufficient to remove it. The 'girls' were already headed out of the room, Katrina now talking happily to 'baby Sophie'.

"No inconvenience, Severus. It's just a bath," Remus said genially. "Why don't we go to the drawing room to wait, it won't take them long—unless Tonks lets Katrina pour the bubbles. If that happens, we might have to rescue all three of them from the foam."

Remus lead the way, carrying the tray of tea and biscuits, and Severus found himself in the same chair opposite the chess set which he had occupied on his two prior visits. The room had been repainted since his last foray into the house, though much of the furniture was the same. One of the Lupins, or perhaps Molly Weasley had a flair for bright colors and interesting patterns that made the room almost garish for Severus' taste but at least it no longer had the air of gloom.

"_Uncle_ Remus?" Severus asked as he accepted a cup of tea.

"We told her she could call us whatever she likes," Remus said placidly. "She remembers her birth parents, has been living with the Weasleys and has been hoping you and Rowena would adopt her. It's a hard adjustment to be bounced around like that. We told her we were her family, no matter what, and she could just call us whatever she wants."

"Is that wise? Does that not simply encourage her to continue hoping for something that cannot be? Does she understand the nature of your relationship now, the adoption?"

"For her age, I think she understands the nature of our relationship very profoundly," Remus said with a mischievous smile that immediately set Severus' teeth on edge. He cast the werewolf a suspicious glare but said nothing. "I appreciate your concern, Severus, but I have no intention of forcing the child to feign feelings that aren't there. 'Daddy' is a title that has to be earned; no legal document can dictate it. I'll leave that for Katrina to decide."

Severus' insides twisted painfully as he remembered Katrina's tearful conversation with him over a month before, _"He can't be my new daddy, 'cause YOU are gonna be my new daddy, right?" _He swallowed the uncomfortable sensation with his tea.

"It is for you to judge," he said flatly.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you properly before, but thanks for the stuff for my potion. Tonks was ready to kill you over that contraceptive potion; I've never seen her blush that red before. We wouldn't want to have kids now in the middle of a war anyway. You do know that werewolves aren't born like that though, right? She was really mad about that 'whelps' comment."

"Of course I know how werewolves are made, idiot," Severus said, though there was no real venom in his words. "I was merely taking artistic license. It requires very precise circumstances to create werewolves with no human form at all."

Hagrid had indeed acquired werewolf cubs when he was a student—something that Tom Riddle had carefully bred. Riddle had been furious when Hagrid had 'rescued' the cubs, which was why he then went to such great effort to make certain that it was Hagrid who got expelled over the later incident.

It was amazing the trivial information one obtained when one was forced to brew for hours in a room with a megalomaniac who enjoyed nothing so much as bragging over his past triumphs to a captive audience.

Werewolf 'cubs' had to be conceived by two werewolves while in their wolf form, and also had to be BORN while the female werewolf was in the wolf form. Under those circumstances, the resultant creatures would have no human form or mind, regardless of the phase of the moon. It retained all the features of the monster, however—the bloodlust and preference for human flesh above all others, the ability to infect others with lycanthropy, the magical resistance to many spells and the rapid regeneration. Riddle, even then, was dreaming of armies of dark creatures at his disposal, and a pack of feral werewolves continually under his control was one of the more grandiose ones.

Severus shook his head to clear his mind of the unpleasant ruminations.

"There is no need to thank me. It is as much to my benefit as to yours if your wife assumes responsibility for that potion. She was quite adequate in potions as a student; she ought to be able to manage sufficiently."

He paused and sipped his tea again, composing his thoughts before continuing.

"It is I who ought to express appropriate gratitude for what you and Tonks have done for Katrina," he said. Every word was slightly stilted, Severus being as unpracticed in expressing gratitude as he was at apologies. "It was unnecessary for you to take her in as your own and offer her your protection. I am very interested in her welfare. I appreciate what you have done."

Remus shook his head.

"She's a great little girl. We already felt like she was part of the family, I'd be damned if we'd let anyone else get her. You don't need to thank me for that. I just want her to be happy—and for the record, that means she needs to see a lot of you and Rowena, as much as you can anyway. I don't want any more of this nonsense about 'undermining parental authority' or any of that rot. I think stability is the most important thing for her. I'm glad to give her a safe home and everything, so don't think any more of it.

"You were the first person to help her out when she'd been so traumatized and you're still the only one around here who can 'talk right'," he flashed Severus a grin, which was returned with a smirk from the darker man. "They say it's good for kids to be multi-lingual. If you don't come around and 'talk right' with her, she'll lose her native language after a while."

"I believe your sister said your mother speaks German?" Severus asked. "I expect summer to bring… unpleasant duties. I will not risk exposing her to danger, which she would be if it were known that I visited often. I doubt it will be possible for me to be around much in any case."

"Yeah, mum speaks it, but it's the real formal stuff that teachers teach. Katrina says it sounds 'funny'."

"I will do what I can." He looked at Remus contemplatively, his expression utterly devoid of any trace of animosity. "I believe I have misjudged you, Lupin. I do not think I would be so generous were our situations reversed."

Remus grinned and stood to open the door to the drawing room, just as footsteps were heard overhead as the girls returned from the bath.

"C'mon, Severus. You don't expect me to believe that she could bat those baby-blues at you and ask for something and you'd manage to say 'no', do you?"

"I have been a professor for fifteen years," Severus said haughtily. "You don't think I'm immune to such things?"

Katrina bounded into the room in clean pajamas, her golden curls still damp from her bath. Tonks and Rowena were trailing behind, both with damp-splatter patches on their robes.

"Katrina, it's time to go to bed," Tonks said firmly. "You've already had your bedtime story tonight. It's getting late and Severus and Rowena have to go home to finish their marking. Give them a hug goodbye and come up to bed."

The child ignored the directive, and instead clambered onto Severus' lap, handing him a book, aforementioned blue eyes staring at him appealingly.

"Will you read my story, Sev'rus?" she asked, "Read it right?"

"Tonks has told you what she expects of you, Katrina," he said, trying to keep his tone firm. The golden lashes blinked and the tiny mouth pouted… and Severus Snape caved. "Very well, I will read your story—once you get to your room and are tucked in bed."

Remus chuckled and shook his head. "Nope, not immune at all," he called after their retreating backs as Severus carried Katrina up the stairs, Rowena following close behind.

* * *

They returned to Hogwarts as soon as the child was asleep, and Severus had to admit that he felt more at ease over her placement for having visited her. The room they had given her had been stripped of any hint of darkness. He found the lavender shade of the painted walls to be cloying, but Katrina appeared delighted. Her four-poster bed had been painted white, and a filmy gauze material hung like a hammock across the bottom two posts into which she had placed an array of stuffed animals and dolls that she had acquired over her months at Hogwarts. She was thrilled to have 'baby Sophie' back and had fallen asleep before Severus was half finished with the book.

"Thank you, Severus," Rowena said, hugging him impulsively as soon as they had both de-sooted themselves once again. She was smiling contentedly, and he was hard-pressed to think of a reason not to hold her in his arms for hours.

"Feeling better, then?" he asked against her hair as he held her. She nodded.

"I still wish things were different, but Katrina said that Remus promised her everything would be 'okay', so she's happy. I won't worry so much anymore."

"A very reckless thing to promise, particularly considering the circumstance and the person issuing the oath," Severus said disapprovingly, leaning away from her so he could look at her. "It is impossible to be certain of such a thing."

"Children need reassurances, Severus. They don't understand the complexities of 'what if'. Besides, if Remus promised it, you can rest assured that he'll do his best to make it true. She's as safe and happy as she can be."

He heard the fondness in her tone as she spoke of Remus, and he managed an indulgent smile of his own.

"It is well that you've made your peace with your brother. I find that I enjoy seeing _you_ as contented as you can be as well."

She rewarded his rare admission of tenderness with a radiant smile.

"You ought to be careful, such flattery might go to a girl's head," she teased, before rising on her toes to brush a light kiss across his cheek. "Goodnight, Severus."

He left in a swirl of black robes, and she sealed the door behind him. She picked up her unmarked papers and settled on the sofa to resume the night's marking, which needed to be turned in by morning.

* * *

The scene at Hogsmeade Station was tense and watchful. Normally the students were sent off on the carriages and that was that, but now they were accompanied all the way to the train by all the professors and a good contingent of Aurors. Albus, Minerva and Filius were going up and down the train checking the various safety wards, braking charms, alarms and the like. There were many students remaining at Hogsmeade with their parents, but many more who were going home to an unsafe world. It was impossible to even begin to protect everyone all the time, but they were at least doing their best to make the children as safe as possible. The other professors were merely there acting as 'guards' of sorts, as the students slowly filed onto the train and found seats.

"Well, Rowena, I reckon this is 'so long' for a spell at least," Dylan Howard said as he approached her where she stood on the platform. His contract had been for one year, and though Albus had discussed a second year with him, they hadn't made any firm decisions. "Gotta get back home and check on my ranch."

"It's been a pleasure, Dylan, honestly," she said, smiling warmly at him. It was hard to recall that a year ago she had almost been nauseated at the very sight of him. "Where's Jake?"

"Hagrid brought him up early this mornin'. He don't like travlin' much, 'less it's on his own hooves, right? Loaded him up 'fore the crowds would come. Don' reckon you'd come visit me some time?"

"This war won't last forever," she said, "I might get around to some traveling after it's all over. If I do, I'll come see you."

She lowered her voice, and her expression became slightly worried.

"Will you be okay? Will you see Josh when you get back?"

He shrugged uncomfortably and twisted his hat in his hands.

"I'll hafta. It's a real small community. I'll be alright. Maybe Luke helped me get over him, eh? Take care of yerself, now. Send me an owl now and then, y'hear?"

"Of course I will," she said, standing on her toes to hug him warmly and kiss his leathery cheek. "Have a safe trip home. I'm glad you'll be with the kids to London. Dumbledore seems so nervous today."

"I'll be alright. Here, give this to Katrina, won'tcha? I've got loads at home, and she liked it." He set his enormous hat on Rowena's head, winked at her, and disappeared onto the train.

"How very touching," said a sarcastic voice just behind her.

"Don't make a scene. He's my friend. I'll miss him, in spite of his 'abysmal abuse of the spoken word'," she said softly, quoting back to him his own words he had said so long ago, trying unsuccessfully to tease him out of his ill humor. "I was just saying good-bye."

"So I noticed."

His voice was soft, and she doubted anyone would notice their conversation, but she could hear the edge of anger in his tone. She supposed she ought not to have hugged and kissed Dylan like that—but he was her friend, she might not see him again for years. She sighed in frustration, gave Severus a withering look, and stalked away helping the other teachers make certain that the children got safely onto the train and checking wards.

* * *

The heightened security was necessary, yet painfully ineffectual. Death Eaters attacked the train on an isolated stretch halfway between Hogwarts and London. There were many, many injuries, though thankfully very few deaths. The attack seemed to be designed to affect as many of the children as possible—but to intentionally leave them alive, as a warning. The message was made all the more conspicuous by the only children who were uninjured—Draco, Gregory, Vincent, Theodore, Millicent, Pansy—nearly two dozen in all, all of whom were children of known or suspected Death Eaters.

The attackers got away, their strike so quick and precise, their retreat so instant, that the Aurors had no time to strike back. They had to focus all their attention on the need to extinguish flames, deflect the curses and hexes, and attempt to keep the train on the tracks. The last was unsuccessful, so that they then had to focus on righting the train and rescue the injured.

Dylan Howard was pinned beneath one of the cars, having been thrown out of it as he tried to fight from the doorway of the one in which he had been riding. He lived, but was unconscious with extensive injuries of unknown severity. Emergency messages exchanged with his next of kin at home insisted that he be returned to America for treatment so that a Medi-wizard transported him at once via Portkey. Jake, his horse, died when his car became separated from the rest of the train and rolled repeatedly down a steep ravine.

It seemed that there was some half-hearted attempt to capture Harry in the attack, as his car was the most severely damaged, but as he had Aurors in his compartment with him, the attempt was aborted. He sustained some broken bones and mild internal bruising, a blessing considering how much worse it could have been. The Weasleys and Hermione were living in Hogsmeade, so Harry at least did not have to fear that his friends once again were in heightened danger because of him. He was treated at St Mungo's by John Lupin and then transported to his relations' home by Remus and Alastor with promises to retrieve him in two weeks and the appropriate threats to the Dursleys regarding his treatment while he was in their charge.

Rowena heard all of this second-hand, having gone to visit Katrina and deliver Dylan's hat as soon as the train pulled away. Katrina and Molly Weasley were baking biscuits when Rowena arrived. It was Filius, too elderly now to go and join the battle or the rescue, who flooed them with the message several hours after the train departed the station. Molly took Katrina with her back to Hogsmeade where she could be of more assistance. Rowena rushed back to Hogwarts to find it all but deserted, Filch already bullying the house elves through their summer cleaning routine.

Severus' office and lab were empty and he did not answer her knocks at either their shared private door or the public one. Moreover, he seemed to have taken her advice and gone to someone for security wards, because they were more complex than he usually used. In the back of her mind she thought that with time she could get through them if necessary, but it was an idle consideration.

Instead she went to her own rooms, and found a small book on her desk in her office that she did not recall. She closed the door and performed a few minor detection charms on the object, but found no evidence of Dark Magic, teleportation charms or traps, though there was some sort of encryption charm on it. Upon picking it up, it instantly became a piece of parchment rather than a book, and she recognized Severus' sharp, angular script.

_Rowena,_

_I ought to have discussed this with you before, but I did not wish to alarm you, or for you to spend the last days of term in ineffectual worry. However, it now occurs to me that there are things I ought to have said before I left._

_I have duties away from the school this holiday. It is unlikely I will return before start of term. Albus knows how to contact me if the need is very great._

_I did not wish to part with you at odds. I allowed my jealousy to outweigh my reason at the station. I am confident Katrina will enjoy the Cowboy's hat. Perhaps she can bathe in it; Merlin knows it is enormous enough. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to visit her with you one more time before I had to leave. _

_Stay close to Albus. Follow his advice in everything. Our plans now rest on a razor's edge of hope and chance._

_I can offer no words of comfort, nor would I fill this page with syrupy drivel that lacked truth or sincerity. I cannot even promise to think of you often, as it is my intent not to think of you at all, for your safety as well as the objective._

_At your brother's wedding, it came to my attention how much communication some of the guests shared together in the lyrics of various songs. Trite, perhaps, but amusing… and effective. It is satisfying to know that countless hours chaperoning tedious student revelries over the years have not been entirely useless. _

_I find to my dismay that my own words fail me. Perhaps borrowing another's will express what I cannot—though even this poor substitute is more than a little sappy and cloying. I do not believe that one should make light of something so serious. _

_However, the sentiment expressed is appropriate._

_If all goes well, I will see you at the start of term feast._

_Yours,_

_S._

When she reached the end of the note, there was a small 'pop', and the parchment was gone without a trace, leaving her holding an ordinary cube for a wireless, completely nondescript. She wiped tears from her face, trying to calm her pounding heart as she desperately wished she'd hugged and kissed HIM as well, there on the platform this morning, rather than walking away from him in a snit. Already the ache of the broken bond, which had been almost nothing these past weeks as they'd spent time together, was now making itself known again. She couldn't imagine what it would be like at the end of the two-month holiday!

She also was frightened—the note held too much tone of uncertainty, like he was planning for contingencies and trying to say his 'last good-byes' in case he didn't return! 'If all goes well…' leaving her the clear hint of what would happen if all did NOT 'go well'. THAT thought was the most unbearable of all. She knew enough now of her muted feelings to know that she still cared very deeply for him, probably even still loved him, no matter that she felt incapable of properly expressing it and was too wary to trust it.

Still sniffling, upset about the attack on the Express and the injuries, and even more upset about Severus' message of his lengthy absence, she made her way to her quarters to put the cube in her wireless. She would head to St. Mungo's and see if she could be of any use after she heard it, but curiosity outweighed her sense of urgency just now. What sort of 'good-bye' would be contained within?

"_**Babe," by Styx**_

"_Babe I'm leaving  
__I must be on my way  
The time is drawing near…."_

Her breath caught in her throat as the first strains of the music filled the room. Tight bands of emotion constricted her chest so that she felt as though she had to struggle for every breath, every heartbeat.

"_Cause you know it's you babe  
Whenever I get weary  
And I've had enough  
Feel like giving up  
You know it's you babe  
Giving me the courage  
And the strength I need…."_

The gentle tones were barely audible over the wretched sound of her weeping.

* * *

A/N: German Translations, thank you 'Lady Claire':

"Na, mein Engelchen" –Hey, my little angel!

Engelchen—little angel (when referring to girls)

"Genau wie du kleiner Frechdachs!" – "Just like you, cheeky little rascal (or brat)!"

We will see snippets of Severus' summer activities. For more detailed Author commentary on this chapter, feel free to visit my LiveJournal account, I am 'weasleyfan'. Anyone may view my journal without belonging to livejournal.

I could not see Severus leaving for a long term, dangerous 'task' without leaving some profound good-bye, though as you see, even this was almost more than he could tolerate. However, it allows her to keep something tangible from him that cannot be traced back to him, in case of 'the worst', it did not require him to try and compose any grandiose declarations of his own, and indeed, the sentiment expressed is appropriate.


	46. Chapter 46: Subterfuge

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL, aka Kirasha who have both stepped up the to the challenge marvelously as I scramble to finish this before HBP! Any remaining errors or mistakes are my own—please feel free to point them out!

* * *

Chapter 46: Subterfuge

* * *

She sat for a long time, listening to the 'sappy' music over and over. She was stunned, to say the least. Sentiment that he had never come close to expressing in words, though she had felt it profoundly when they shared the Bond, now played blithely through the air.

She thought perhaps that she ought to have been happy that he had made this sort of gesture to express himself so plainly. Even though she still felt her emotions were distorted because of the broken Bond, Severus' nearly continual attention since the Easter Holiday seemed to have stabilized that somewhat.

However, what she felt as she listened to the song, was fear, slowly morphing into nearly abject panic. The thing is, she knew him well enough to know that he would never have done such a thing lightly. The uncharacteristic gesture seemed one of desperation.

He didn't think he was coming back.

That had to be the only possible explanation. He wanted her to have some clear, tangible evidence of what he had never been able to say to her. Something she could keep forever in case the worst happened.

Of course this also allowed him to 'save face' if he did return alive. No one else would ever believe that snarky, cold, stoic Professor Snape would even listen to that sort of 'rubbish', let alone give it away. If someone found it in her office or caught her listening to it, they might question her taste in music, but they would never dream that she was actually listening to a message from HIM.

That last thought was actually comforting. That was exactly something Severus would do, to give her something that could in no way be traced back to him. She managed a half-smile to herself as she tried to get a grip on her fear. It wasn't going to do anyone any good just now, and she might be able to be of some use at St. Mungo's.

She carefully stored the cube away in her bag so she could keep it with her and headed out the door. She ran into the Headmaster, almost literally, at the main doors.

"Rowena, I wondered if I might find you here. Will you accompany me to my office?" he asked, though his brisk strides were already leading that direction without waiting for her response. She had to half-trot to keep up with him, and noticed dark smudges along one side of his robes that looked like dried blood.

The stone gargoyle guarding his office made no comment when he gave the password, "Sugar Floss" and she followed him onto the spiral stair. Neither of them spoke, as he seemed too deep in thought for light conversation. Once inside his office, he again asked the portraits for privacy--there was apparently some charm he could use once they were empty to prevent their occupants from eavesdropping onto conversations within the office. Rowena was familiar with many security charms, but this sort of charm was new to her--how many people had portraits likely to spy on them? She cataloged the information as an area to research in the future, but remained silent.

"You have heard about the attack?" he asked without preamble. He sat in an overstuffed chintz chair near his fireplace and waved for her to take its companion, which she did, nodding in answer to his question. "Dylan Howard is expected to live, though there is now no question of his coming back to teach in September. He is already in Texas and has someone with him.

"Three of my students were killed. Countless numbers were badly injured. St. Mungo's has had to call in its entire emergency staff. Your father tells me he expects no more deaths, but there are a few children who might still be unable to return to school at the start of next term."

Rowena watched him speak, and noticed the lines of fatigue on his face, making him look older than she had ever seen him. The bright blue eyes were crystal-clear, however, not the least fogged with age or fatigue. In fact, at the moment, they were glittering with an anger that she had never witnessed in him before. It was suddenly easier for her to understand You-Know-Who's fear of him, when she saw him like this. His strength was a palpable thing, causing the room to feel as though it positively thrummed with barely contained magical power. His aged appearance was a stark contrast to the sheer _force_ he radiated.

"I would like to discuss your research. Particularly the research you did before coming to this school. I'd like to know more about the more specific impact of emotions on certain spells?"

She was completely wrong-footed. She had done quite a bit in that very area--to her students' dismay, as most of them found the theory to be quite boring. Nothing but dry equations to attempt to quantify various emotions as an energy force, attempting to demonstrate the impact of that additional force when added to the different energy wavelength of the Magic itself. To her it was fascinating, to the students, as dull as Binns' lectures—but what did it have to do with what had just happened today?

"Yes, Albus. I started with some of the more obvious spells--the Patronus that needs a really happy memory, the Boggart banishing charm that needs laughter, and even the Cruciatus, which needs cruelty. I thought, if emotions affected those spells--and in the case of the Patronus and the Cruciatus, they are some of the strongest spells in use--what sort of affect might they have on other spells?" She looked at him curiously; unable to fathom where he was 'going' with his questions.

"What do you know of Harry's survival of the Avada Kedavra?" he asked, pinning her to the spot with his sharp gaze.

Now she had an inkling of where he was going, and it made her very uncomfortable. She squirmed a bit in her seat.

"We weren't allowed to do much with that area, in my department," she said, slightly evasively. "Anything we did was fairly quickly confiscated and sent to the Department of Mysteries."

"Which is why you kept copies of all your work so closely sealed in your own files at home," Albus said confidently, without the slightest hint of accusation. "Lily Evans was one of the most--if not THE most talented Charms student to ever pass through this school during my time here. I need to know what you know about what she did."

"Well... I have to tell you that this is purely speculation, because I have no way to test it. I think I know how she did it. The basics are pretty widely known of course—essentially nothing more or less complicated than that somehow her sacrifice protected Harry. I think I found the actual method she used, or at least something very like it. I wouldn't be surprised if they knew the exact method in the Department of Mysteries, where as my research is all guesswork. I didn't have proper 'security clearance' to be allowed to delve into it more deeply.

"It had to have been ritual magic, something very old, probably blood magic. Not unlike the Soul Bond in some respects I think."

She fidgeted with a loose thread on her robes, trying not to go off on an internal angst-tangent over the issue of her broken Bond with Severus.

"I think she probably did the ritual over Harry sometime after he was born. She knew he was in danger. So she probably did it as soon as she could--maybe she found it or researched it while she was pregnant. It would take too much time to do in the heat of an attack. That's the only way I think it could have been done. She did the necessary preparation, so that when the time came, all it required was her... sacrifice, her blood... to complete the protection."

She sighed and shook her head.

"That's the thing, though, that's why the Ministry dampens all that sort of research. What use is it to repeat what she did? A life for a life, it's true, but still the killing curse takes a life. I was researching it, hoping to find some way to defend against the curse altogether, without the sacrifice, but it's just too powerful. There are some theoretical modifications that could be made to the ritual--but it's impossible to test the modifications. It's impossible, first of all, to inspire the depth of love and feeling for a lab-rat to perform the testing ritual... and then of course, if the test is successful, the rat lives while the scientist dies?"

She trailed off in frustration. In her mind, this was simply another one of her personal 'failures'. She couldn't develop a shield for the Cruciatus. Her wards at Azkaban had fallen with ridiculous ease once the giants had physically attacked the structure. All she had to show for years of research into Harry's survival of the Avada Kedavra was a file-cabinet chock-full of notes on 'theory' and nothing whatever tangible. Perhaps there was a tad bit of Slytherin ambition in her, as she felt the shame of not being 'the one' who managed to develop THE counter-curse for that most feared of spells.

"It's of no use to anyone, Albus, nothing but a bunch of dead-end research. It's not even something I'd be willing to teach the students, or other adults for that matter. We'd have people all over the place performing 'protective rituals' over their loved ones--and in the case of teenagers that title changes ownership every few days--and more needless deaths in the process."

He had steepled his fingers in front of his face as she spoke, and listened to her without interruption, apparently rapt.

"I would very much like to see your notes on the subject, Rowena," he said in mild tones that nonetheless carried weight of a command. "I've done a bit of looking into it myself, as has Filius, but obviously the more heads we put together on the topic, the better. Ideally I would love to speak with someone from the Department of Mysteries about it, as you have mentioned, but unfortunately they seem disinclined to discuss the subject."

"I can bring them up to you at once, Albus," she said, still exceedingly confused. If anyone could manage to take her 'dead end' research and put it to good use, it would be the Headmaster. "As soon as I get back, anyway. I was going to go to St. Mungo's to see if I could be of any help there, after I came here hoping to see... well, he was already gone when I got here."

"He was summoned at approximately the same time that I received word of the attack. He was not involved in it, nor did he know of it before hand. He very much hates any level of 'failure', and any time Voldemort does something like this, when he is unable to provide warning, he takes it very personally."

He regarded her in silence a few more moments, and seemed to come to some internal decision.

"Severus has been very closed with me of late on a great many things. I do not know what the standing is between the two of you, and I suspect he prefers it that way. I believe he thinks I 'meddle' too much."

The clear blue eyes regained some of their infamous twinkle as he said this, and she thought that it was a look that suited him far better than the powerful anger of moments before. He stood and went to a tall cabinet and retrieved a box that was nearly a foot and a half square, but only a few inches deep. It was made of some sort of metal and had a great many protective runes covering it. It was warded so heavily that she thought she could hear it hum with magic.

"I am distributing these among various locations. There are some things that only I know. Handy, for security purposes of course, but very dangerous for others involved if something happens to me. Minerva has one of these, Moody, the Ministry, and a particular safe in Gringotts just to name a few. The box cannot be opened while I live. You are more than welcome to try." He offered a mischievous smile, "I even let the Weasley twins have at one for the entirety of last summer, and they didn't so much as banish one ward.

"Inside the box is a Pensieve. This particular one contains information about Severus. Most importantly, proof of his innocence and his invaluable aid to the Order. If I survive this war, of course I will protect him from any ramifications of his actions personally. However, if something happens to me, even if our side 'wins', there are those on both sides who would find it to their advantage to discredit him, even after all the sacrifices he has made. There are few people whom I feel I can trust with the truth of this, whom I know will do everything necessary to make certain that it comes to light. I would like you to be the safe keeper of this one, if you are willing?"

It was one thing to hear Severus speaking of the possibilities of not surviving the war. He faced the Dark Lord continually in an exceedingly dangerous role. It was an entirely different thing to hear Albus Dumbledore, arguably the strongest wizard currently living, discuss such a thing. To not only hear him say it, but also to see proof of the preparations he was making for that possibility was incredibly sobering.

"Of course, Albus," she said accepting the heavy box carefully.

"Keep it concealed--you need not worry about someone breaking into it, as I have said, but I still wouldn't want it to be stolen. The locking charms only hinge on me--if I die before Voldemort is defeated, the information inside that Pensieve could be deadly for Severus to say the least."

"I understand."

"Well, then, I won't keep you any longer. If you like, I will accompany you to the hospital. I was going there shortly myself. I've been to the attack site, obviously," he gestured at his stained garments, "We were able to get everyone out. The students who weren't too severely injured for travel are slowly being Portkeyed to London by Ministry officials. The train is nearly a total loss, I don't know if it will be functional by start of term. I have no idea how we will manage to transport all those children back here by then if it's not."

He was clearly just ruminating aloud as he walked her to the door of his office.

"I'll be ready to leave in about fifteen minutes," she said.

"Excellent. I will meet you in the entrance hall then."

* * *

Harry didn't stay the full two weeks with his relations. Even though St. Mungo's was able to heal his broken bones, he was having headaches and nightmares that were unrelated to the injuries. Only a week after being deposited at the Dursley's, he was retrieved by Remus and brought to 12 Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore would have liked Harry to stay in Surrey longer, but Remus had taken a very proprietary view over Harry as well as Katrina, and put his foot down. He was unwilling to allow Harry to be miserable in the name of safety, as Sirius had been for the last months of his life.

Rowena spent a great deal of time at the house as well. Tonks had her normal duties as an Auror, and she and Remus both had important work for the Order. Rowena ended up being Katrina's primary minder during the day and often late into the evening, an arrangement that suited them both just fine. Her naptime also left Rowena free to once again spend time with Harry. Hermione and the Weasleys often popped in, so that he was rarely lonely. But they didn't live there, wanting to give the new Lupin family some semblance of privacy when possible.

The only truly distressing thing about the arrangement was that it was impossible for her to glean any news of Severus. Had she spent most of her time at the Hogwarts, she might have been able to get a snippet from Dumbledore. He was rarely to be seen at Headquarters.

It was Harry, in the end, who was able to provide her information on Severus' doings, but little of that was of a comforting nature.

"Rowena, do you reckon we ought to be keeping on with my Occlumency lessons?" he asked one day, only a few days after moving into the house.

She looked up at him from her notes. She had provided Albus with copies of all her notes that he had requested, but she had retained copies for herself as well. She didn't think there was anything more she could do with them, the equations all came up to dead-ends, but the ensuing frustration was very consuming and a good way to spend time without worrying about things even more out of her control than numbers on a page.

"Are you feeling up to it, Harry? You haven't had much time to recover from your injuries," she said gently, anxiously scanning his face. He had new glasses, though they were nearly the same as his old ones, which had been lost in the attack. He had the faded greenish yellow stain of an old bruise across the left side of his jaw and neck, disappearing into the collar of his T-shirt. It picked up the trail again down his left arm. She was certain he had sustained other injuries aside from the broken bones.

"I'm alright," he said, shrugging. "Those Healers at St. Mungo's can heal bones in about a minute. Mostly I'm just bored. I don't like to have so much time to just sit around and think. Besides, Professor Snape was letting me do exercises, and gave me permission—even instructions—to keep practicing over the summer, but I had to promise only to do it with another Occlumens."

"I hardly qualify," she said, shaking her head. "You outstripped me ages ago."

"You're good enough," Harry said, carelessly enough that it didn't sound like an insult. "I just need a 'ground'. I even specifically asked him if it was okay for you to do it, because I figured Dumbledore would make us work on Occlumency this summer, so it'd be a good time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, laughing slightly. "A ground?"

"Well, it's like this… I've sort of learned to get inside Voldemort's head—and yes, Professor Snape was watching and stuff. He helped me learn how to do it right. I have to sort of "turn off" my emotions, like I'm just observing inside there. The 'ground' helps me not get lost in it. Voldemort's so twisted; he has no concept of basic things like empathy and stuff. I have to stay completely 'blank', like a sponge, so He can't feel me in there. The 'ground' helps me come out of it and shake it off.

"Professor Snape even sort of did this thing where he would slip messages through me into Voldemort, kind of like, I dunno," he stopped and grinned, "Well, it was like he was trying to give Voldemort something of a conscience, and make him think it was his own idea."

"What?" she exclaimed, astounded.

"I know!" Harry laughed, "You don't know how hard it is for me to imagine Professor Snape teaching anyone… _morals_ on how to treat other human beings, but the few things he tried seemed to work. Both times Voldemort stopped… well, what the Death Eaters were doing at the time. I'll spare you the details."

"Thank you," she said dryly.

"Anyway, Voldemort suddenly decided it was 'boring' and lost interest."

"Harry, I'm nowhere near as skilled as Professor Snape. I'd be terrified I'd muck something up," she said, shaking her head.

"No, you don't have to do anything. He was real explicit about that—I'm not supposed to DO anything, but I am allowed to practice just being that blank receiver or whatever it is, so long as I have a 'ground'. It's not hard. All you have to do is watch. I'll 'see' both sides—I'll 'see' your emotions and impressions, and I'll see whatever Voldemort is seeing at the time. The important thing is that I have contact with someone with normal emotions, grounding me. Voldemort won't be able to 'see' you or anything, because I'm like the buffer. Professor Snape said that if I didn't have a 'ground' I might go mad or lose 'moral clarity'."

Rowena laughed at the bemused expression on Harry's face.

"That's as close as he's ever come to conceding that I had anything like morals," Harry said grinning sheepishly. "Mostly he just thinks I'm a lawless dunderhead. He said something like, _'It would be deleterious for your already questionable moral standards to be further debased, Potter. Have a ground or don't do it'_."

The slightly haughty set of the jaw and very condescending tone were such a strong impression of the man in question that Rowena couldn't help but laugh again. She could just _hear_ Severus saying that precise thing. She must have still appeared hesitant to help him, because he felt the need to throw out the irresistible 'hook'.

"I might be able to get a glimpse of what Professor Snape is doing," he said, trying and failing to sound casual rather than wheedling.

"Okay," she said, unable to resist the chance to at least glimpse Severus. "But first I want proof that he really has given you permission to do this."

"Sure," said Harry, holding out his hands as though to say 'have at me'. "We can just practice the normal Occlumency for a bit, anyway. I don't like to do it unless I'm 'warmed up'."

He had improved greatly since Easter when Albus finally assumed his Occlumency training. More importantly, there was an easy comfort about his shields, even when she was actively trying to penetrate his defenses. It was as though it was requiring almost no effort on his part to keep her 'out', which it probably wasn't!

He did 'show' her the conversation with Severus just prior to the end of term, when he had indeed told the boy to continue to practice. It was interesting to 'see' Severus this way, through the filter of Harry's perceptions. In Harry's mind, his distinctive nose, rather than being the perfect sharp, aristocratic 'fit' to his angular face, was enormous, almost 'beaky' and distorted. His fine, lank hair appeared limp and lifeless, as it often appeared after an end of a long day spent in a confined space with 20 steaming cauldrons, but the oiliness was exaggerated. He looked thinner, gaunt and sallow rather than just naturally fair skinned. When he spoke to Harry, his slightly uneven teeth appeared exceedingly crooked, and the faint staining so common among tea-drinkers as to be barely noticeable to her perception, made his teeth look almost yellow through the filter of Harry's extreme dislike.

It made for amusing ruminations, but had no real bearing on the task at hand. They spent twenty minutes trading 'Legilimency' spells back and forth, testing each other's Occlumency. Rowena was feeling fatigued and had the beginnings of a headache just behind her eyes when Harry decided he was 'ready'.

He moved two of the more comfortable over-stuffed chairs in the room so that they were facing each other. He sat in one and fidgeted for quite some time before deciding he was 'comfortable'. Rowena doubted very much that Severus put up with these antics, but she indulged him. She sat in the opposite chair and watched as he relaxed and his face became flat and blank. At his signal, she 'connected' with him using Legilimency, her wand hand resting gently on the arm of the chair so she wouldn't become fatigued maintaining the connection. This had to be MUCH easier for Severus since he didn't need a wand.

* * *

This was different, because she was not trying to get 'through' his shields, and his mind was indeed completely 'blank' to her. It felt not unlike sitting inside a dark and empty theatre waiting for the entertainment to begin.

Then suddenly there were images, sensations and emotional impressions, so strong and so dark that she gasped aloud at the sheer malevolence of them. It was like suddenly falling out of a pleasant, if rather dull dream, into the depths of the most terrifying nightmare.

She could see a room, dark and dank, and she could even _taste_ the acrid _scent_ of fear on the air—a distorted contradiction of sensations impossible to separate one from the other. Someone found the taste pleasant, like ambrosia, and her stomach roiled in nausea. At first she tried to quell her disgust, until she remembered that was why she was here, 'along for the ride' to share her 'normal' emotions with Harry so that he didn't lose himself in this.

She could now tell that she was 'seeing' through the 'eyes' of the Dark Lord, as Harry made himself the conduit. Everything seemed elongated, tall and thin. The shapes were distorted, and she remembered someone describing his eyes as having cat-like pupils.

There was a fire in a large hearth, scattered furniture, and a few tables. It might have once been a large, fine drawing room of a manor house like the Malfoy's. The carpeting, furniture, and tapestries were all covered in dark stains of unknown origin. Heavy metal rings hung from the ceiling in various places, as well as dangling incongruously off of the arms of chairs or the corners of the tables. Rowena did not even allow herself to speculate on the use of those rings, clearly strong enough to be sturdy anchors for restraints.

At present, the room was nearly empty. The mind surveying the room was almost giddy with sadistic pleasure. One lone figure stood near a cauldron in a corner, though currently the individual leaned back against the wall, retching violently, even as one hand fumbled through pockets of his robes.

The Dark Lord laughed in sadistic delight.

"Dear me, Severus. It seems you have been right to avoid all my generously provided food after all. One of your _brothers_ must be jealous of the attention I am bestowing upon you. I shall have to find out who it was and chastise them appropriately.

"Tell me, are you in a great deal of pain?" he moved closer, tongue tasting the scent of the air like a snake so that the perceptions felt odd. Rowena's heart clenched in fear and horror. When the Dark Lord was close enough to see Severus clearly, she could see how horrible he looked. Even with Harry trying to suppress all his own impressions just to be a conduit, Severus looked gaunt, like flesh stretched over bone, and almost as pale as the paper-white hand that reached out to touch his face in a gesture that was a disgusting parody of tenderness. Dark circles under his sunken eyes and the papery-thin appearance of his skin spoke of dehydration even with her rusty and limited healing knowledge.

"What is the poison, Severus? Tell me how you _feel_." The Dark Lord forced his own way into Severus' mind, making no attempt to be subtle or gentle. Rowena perceived the sensation of crumbling that was how she interpreted the experience when Harry's shields fell under her onslaught, and she gasped again in fear—had the Dark Lord just broken through Severus' defenses? Something in the poison he was suffering under?

But what the Dark Lord saw was 'only' normal fear, pain, self-preservation, concern to get to the antidote in time to make the next modification to the potion within the rigid time constraints, nothing that betrayed him, though it 'felt' as though his mind was laid bare.

Severus seemed to find what he was looking for, as he pulled a small vial from a pocket and consumed the contents in one swallow, breathing heavily. His glittering black eyes somehow seemed flat, inscrutable, more emotionless than Rowena had ever seen him. The Dark Lord's frustration felt through the odd 'link' made her realize that this extreme impassivity was the manifestation of his skills and the horrible game of chance that he played.

"I do not know the poison, Lord. It was not one of mine. It was impressively painful, which is one of the few complimentary things I can say about it."

His voice strengthened as he spoke, so that he sounded utterly professional, calmly discussing the merits—or in this case, the many faults, of a new concoction.

"I suspect a neurotoxin of some sort, with very rapid absorption, though there was also some corrosiveness which caused rapid gastric objection, betraying the poison's presence before it had time to be fatal, or even significantly harmful. It is extremely coarse, utterly without subtlety. If I were allowed to teach poisons, this one would not receive a passing mark. The only positive comment I can make is that it blended well with the pulp of the apple—it must have been carefully injected to avoid my notice, though it would need to be to hide its many faults.

"It was also appallingly clichéd—a poisoned apple? Utterly without creativity. I shall have to study it further before I can give you its precise properties, but I would not recommend adding this one to your routine stores.

"Fortunately, I recognized the effects and keep plenty of antidotes handy. I fear if your new Potions Master is successful in getting rid of me as his greatest rival, this potion might not be completed."

A high, cold laugh filled the room as Severus straightened up, adjusting his robes and stepped to the cauldron as calmly as though he stood in his classroom and hadn't been fighting for his life a few moments before.

"Severus, you are greatly amusing, in addition to your usefulness. I would be most put out if you expired before you could finish my potion. But then we do have another hurdle to cross between now and Halloween, don't we? How do I know I can trust _you_? What prevents you from poisoning me? What proof do you offer me of your loyalty, my slippery friend—you, who make Lucius appear guileless and forthcoming?"

Severus bowed low, yet managed to appear haughtier upon rising than he had done before the obeisance.

"My Lord, I know of no other means to prove my loyalty to you than I have so far done. Fifteen years I have lived in the bowels of that filthy castle, playing toady to that Muggle-loving fool, so as to be able to offer you some scrap of information and insight into his actions. My talents could have been better spent elsewhere, yet I remained where you commanded me, subverting my own ambition and desires. I have no greater gift to give than that."

"So you say, Severus, so you say," said the voice, and the perspective changed as the Dark Lord turned away to move back across the room, seating himself in a high-backed chair. "I am certain that I can think of _something_. It will just take time. Shall I summon the house elf to bring you something to eat? Lucius tells me you are even avoiding the splendor of his table. You will be of no use to me if you starve before the potion is complete."

"I thank you, Lord, no. I believe I have taken enough risks for today," Severus' voice managed to carry the tone of dry amusement, as though poisoning attempts were a matter for levity. Perhaps in this situation, they were, because the high, cold laugh filled the room again.

"Suit yourself, Severus. When do you next need to meet with the fool to maintain your ruse?"

"He believes me to be attending a series of Potions conferences over the summer. I told him I would return once every two weeks to see if I was 'needed'. This coincides with when I will need to obtain fresh ingredients for the potion, so I can be within my quarters without rousing suspicion."

"Ah, pity. We will have to be cautious this summer to see that he does not decide you are 'needed', then. Very well, the excuse is adequate. I expect you to try and learn what you can of his plans while you are there, of course. Find where he is hiding Potter, if you can—he's already been removed from his relations' home. He wasn't there long—he may well be vulnerable to me now if I can find him before he returns to the school."

"Of course, my Lord."

* * *

Harry blinked and shook his head, and the connection was broken. They both sat in their respective chairs, pale, sweaty and breathing heavily. Rowena managed to find her voice first, though it was small and frightened.

"Harry… are you okay?"

"Yeah. I've seen worse, actually. Professor Snape says they don't generally do the worst stuff when he's around. That was bad enough though… bloody hell—he might have just died right then while we watched."

Rowena couldn't say anything at all. She only nodded and buried her face in her hands, fighting off the wave of emotional distress and fatigue that wanted her to burst into tears on the spot.

"I'm sorry, Rowena. Maybe that was a bad idea. I really do need to practice, and I thought you might like to see the Professor. I had no idea how bad things were for him. I… er… I think I'm gonna go up and hang out in my room a while. Are you okay?"

When she nodded again, he left the room and she gradually managed to get herself back under control. Once the initial storm of panic and helplessness had passed, however, she stood up with brisk energy. At least NOW she knew of something she could do to be useful… and she only had a week in which to do it.

* * *

Severus arrived at the castle with his usual brisk strides, billowing robes and disdainful grace, though as the school was all but deserted there was no one to appreciate the effect.

Upon arrival into the Headmaster's office, he fell, exhausted, into one of the plush chairs and instantly grabbed a large apple from a fruit bowl on one of the low tables. He literally sprawled in the chair; his long legs stretched out before him, for a moment utterly relaxed, here in the one place where he felt completely safe to be so.

"Well, they haven't been over-feeding you," Albus said lightly, though his searching gaze was worried.

"You look twenty years older yourself," Severus snapped back between bites of the apple. "Lovely, relaxing Holiday we're having, isn't it?"

"Did you give Harry instructions to practice eavesdropping on Voldemort?" Albus asked without further preamble.

"A simplistic term, Albus, but yes—though only with someone who could act as a ground. Don't tell me, he's managed to botch those instructions already," Severus snarled as he threw the apple core into the hearth and grabbed another. "That would just be icing on the cake."

"No, no, he's been practicing, but his 'partner' was uncertain whether the directive was legitimate."

"A valid concern considering the source. He has actually been relatively cooperative recently. I hold no hope that it will last, but I am pleasantly surprised to hear that he has followed those instructions without direct supervision." Something in Albus' gaze roused his suspicion—the man was too bloody cheerful for the situation. "Why?"

"Apparently there is some concern over your nutritional status. They heard enough to know to expect you to come sometime yesterday or today, and so there's been a small package left for you," Albus said, his moustache quivering as he tried to hold back a smile.

"I can't take anything that obvious in with me, Albus," he snapped, "You know that! It's part of the game. How long will Severus allow himself to starve before desperation drives him to try something… how can one tamper with a piece of fruit with the skin still intact? Never mind the ridiculous fairytales about poisoned apples!"

He threw the next core into the fire as well and was about to reach for a pear from the bowl when Albus pushed forward a thick leather case.

"Open it," Albus said, cheerfully. "It's brand-new, and it's yours. It's already been keyed to you, I can't open it."

He eyed the Headmaster suspiciously but stood and approached the case.

It was a valise especially designed to carry potions ingredients—more specifically, extremely volatile and explosive ingredients. It opened like an enormous book, right down the center. Each 'side' had three heavy leaden divider 'pages', and each 'page' had two rows of vials carefully secured and padded into the case.

It was actually a very fine version of a similar case that he already owned and that he had indeed brought back with him from Malfoy's to restock. Few people were foolish enough to meddle with another Potions Master's ingredients case. Not only were they enormously heavily warded, but they were often set so that if vials were touched in unfamiliar order or removed with the left hand rather than the right the whole thing would explode and shower the meddler with the entirety of the case's contents. Since each case was specific to the Master who owned it, and Potions Masters were notoriously paranoid and obsessive, it was almost unheard of for anyone to even _think_ about tampering with the secrets contained within.

He lifted out the first vial of the first row from the second 'page', intending to see if the vials were empty, or if this 'gift' was given fully 'stocked'. However, as soon as he had the vial out of the case and in his hand, it became a very large ham and swiss with mustard on rye sandwich. He was so startled he nearly dropped it—but not quite.

"What is this?" he asked, turning to glare at the Headmaster. "I am now a charity case like the werewolf?"

"You might want to read the note before you scoff at the gift, my friend," Albus said gently, still clearly trying not to display his Cheshire-cat grin.

He set the sandwich down on a blank piece of parchment on Albus' desk and looked more closely at the case. Tucked in between two of the vials was a small bit of parchment.

_Severus,_

_Jealousy forgiven, music selection greatly enjoyed. _

_All of these vials will resume their natural shape when you touch them. If anyone else touches them, they'll get a nasty shock like my Navitas Texi. From left to right as though reading a book, the first 'page' is eggs, kippers, scones and the like, breakfast fare. The next two 'pages' are meat pies and sandwiches. The next two are fruits and vegetables, raw, skin on for most of them. The very last page is breads and rolls on the top, biscuits and puddings on the bottom—Katrina insisted on those. She was remembering our aborted 'junk food picnic' when we baked the biscuits. The very bottom most vial on the right hand side has an Endless Water charm on it. It will stay a vial, but pour it out and it will refill at once with fresh water._

_I can't claim all the cookery, though perhaps knowing my familial weakness in Potions, you will find that a boon. Molly Weasley helped, though she didn't know what it was for. The preservation charms are mine, and all the ingredients were purchased fresh and inspected by Alastor before use. _

_My mum always told me the way to a man's heart was through his stomach._

_Be careful. Come BACK._

_Yours,_

_Rowena._

When he finished reading the parchment, it disappeared with a small 'pop' to leave him holding a small square of treacle fudge. Severus' tired face softened and he exchanged an amused look with Albus before popping the fudge into his mouth and flopping carelessly back into the chair he had been using earlier. It seemed there was no hiding things from the Headmaster anymore at any rate.

"Well, then, it appears the starvation issue is settled," he said airily as he picked up the ham sandwich and bit into it.

Albus stopped trying to suppress his grin, and conjured his tea-service, pouring for both of them as Severus all but inhaled the sandwich.

"Isn't there some old Muggle saying about… behind every successful man there's a good woman?" Albus teased.

"I wouldn't know. I am not versed in old Muggle sayings, nor have I any desire to be," Severus said loftily. "I still say that bloody Hat put her in the wrong House."

Albus smiled at him, completing the impression, had anyone been there to see, of a doting father enjoying the company of a favorite son.

When Severus finished his sandwich, though, the time for light banter was gone, and they set to work. He still had to restock his real ingredient valise—and his antidotes, though hopefully now he wouldn't go through those as quickly. He would have to return to the Snake Pit very soon.

* * *

AN: I will be away from internet capabilities over the Holiday weekend, so I am posting the three chapters I have beta'd and done before I go. I have through chapter 53 completed and back from one beta, and hope to be able to post them all in rapid succession after my period of AFK. It would make my day if my email inbox was crammed full of your comments when I return. grin 


	47. Chapter 47: Summer Holidays

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL, aka Kirasha who have both stepped up the to the challenge marvelously as I scramble to finish this before HBP! Any remaining errors or mistakes are my own—please feel free to point them out!

I do not own the musical piece mentioned in the fic, credit is given to the appropriate artists and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter 47: Summer Holidays

* * *

Rowena quickly settled into a routine at 12 Grimmauld Place. She and Katrina would spend the better part of the morning cooking and baking. When Katrina napped, Rowena would work with Harry on Occlumency if he was around, or preserve, transfigure and ward the morning's work if he was off with the Weasleys.

On the third day of this after sending Dumbledore the first fruits of her labors, Dumbledore himself turned up, with company.

"Rowena, I thought I might find you hard at work here," he said, blue eyes twinkling from within his still too-tired face. "I thought I might lighten your load a bit and give these fine fellows something more productive to do. They are pining for Severus and it seems a cruelty not to let them do something to help."

Three nearly identical house elves blinked enormous yellow eyes at her. They were all wearing the Hogwarts tea towel, but there was an air of something like haughtiness about them that Rowena had never seen in a house elf before—let alone THREE of them.

"Allow me to make introductions," Albus said, beaming. "This is Joseph, Henry, and Antoine. They are Severus' house elves. They came with him when he returned to Hogwarts to teach. I believe they originated with his mother's family. They are brothers."

Each elf bowed in turn at the mention of his name, while Rowena looked on in astonishment.

"Those are unusual names for house elves," she said at last. "I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Rowena."

"We knows that," said the first one, Joseph, in a squeaky voice that nonetheless sounded disdainful. "Master Sevvie is giving us our nameses. We is named after famous Wizard Potions Masters, we is."

"You is not right to be cooking for our Master," said Henry, almost accusingly. "You is not knowing what he likes."

"Master says wrong seasoning will spoil the palate," said Antoine… and this little elf looked positively angry. "Bad seasoning makes Master not able to taste his ingredients for his Potions."

"Now, now, Rowena was just trying to be helpful," Dumbledore said gently. Three pairs of ears drooped slightly at the chiding, though the large yellow eyes still regarded her with suspicion bordering on dislike. Albus beamed at Rowena and made an attempt to explain.

"When Severus came to Hogwarts to teach, they came with him. They have worked at Hogwarts since, but they still 'belong' to him. He keeps them very secret, obviously. I'm sure he would rather Remus and Tonks not know of them, though I believe they have all met Katrina.

"They are the only elves allowed in his private chambers or to prepare his meals. They would like to assist you in your current endeavor. They are utterly loyal to Severus; you need not fear their motives. They will alternate between helping here and tending his quarters at the school."

Albus spoke as though asking permission, but the very determined expressions on the elves' faces told her that she had very little choice.

"Master Sevvie is fretting about his Katie," said Joseph again. "He is not thinking we is knowing, but we has known Master since he was a baby. We knows when Master is fretting. We is helping here with the little girl, with his Katie. Then Master isn't worrying."

"Oh, dear," Rowena said with a helpless laugh. It took her a moment to realize that 'Katie' was Katrina. "I'll be glad for you to teach me what he likes to eat, but I don't own this house. Katrina's being adopted by Remus and Tonks, I'd have to ask their permission for you to be involved with her."

"Agreed," said Joseph, who seemed to be the primary spokesperson for the three. "But we is not to be meeting Remie and Tonks, they is not to be seeing us. Henry is going back with the Headmaster today. Antoine is staying with Joseph. We is fixing proper food for Master Sevvie. You is permitted to watch."

Somehow it wasn't all that surprising, once she got over the initial shock, that Severus should be the owner of perhaps the only bossy, haughty house elves in existence. Still, she couldn't think of a better way to actually learn what sorts of food he liked. Katrina recognized them at once, and they were much nicer to her than to Rowena, almost playful.

* * *

Occlumency with Harry was extremely sporadic, both in frequency and in quality. The physical ache of the severed Bond returned in full measure and seemed to be more uncomfortable every day. It was distracting and made sleep restless and disturbed—though that might also have been from the unpleasant dreams. It was hard for her to concentrate and while she had once told Harry that she used her emotions, particularly love, as her Occlumency shield, that technique was not nearly so effective now that her emotions were so distorted.

There was almost a reversal of roles, as in many ways Harry became the teacher and she the student. After Harry had mastered her way of shielding his mind, he felt more confident to attempt other techniques. Whether it was Dumbledore who taught him to calm his emotions, or whether he was finally learning the skill from observation and proximity to Severus, he didn't say. However, that was the technique vital for his observational forays into the Dark Lord's mind, and so that was the one he now used and attempted to teach her.

Unfortunately, Harry was also fatigued and weaker than he had been at the start of the summer. Even with his improved Occlumency skill, the Dark Lord was battering almost constantly at HIS shields so that Harry had nearly constant headaches. His scar always appeared red and inflamed, and she was once again breaking through his shields with her Legilimency on a fairly regular basis. Harry insisted this was because she was getting stronger, but she was sure he just didn't want her to fret over his increasing weakness.

It was during one of these 'breaks' that she saw the disturbing memory-image of Severus and Harry in Severus' lab. Severus had a long knife in his hand, and stabbed through Harry's wrist, holding the cut over a large flask, collecting the dark and spurting blood. Both of them looked calm and impassive, and she was certain that this was a real memory. By their casual air, it seemed to be an event that had occurred on more than one occasion.

"Harry!" she exclaimed as she lifted her wand in shock. "What was that about?"

She got up from her chair and went to where he was sitting, grabbing his hand in hers before he could pull away. There, barely noticeable unless one knew what to look for, was a very thin, white line—a magically healed scar from the cut she had just seen.

Harry avoided her gaze and pulled his arm away with a shrug. Snape had given him explicit instructions not to discuss Voldemort's potion with ANYONE, and he was certain that Rowena counted as 'anyone'. It only took a minute for him to come up with an appropriate lie. He desperately hoped she'd believe it.

"It's for the potion that the Death Eaters were making from Katrina's blood," he said casually. "We've been helping him all year, Ron, Fred, George and I. We take turns 'donating', he gives us a blood replenisher afterward, and that way he can keep making it."

"Oh my goodness," she gasped, sitting heavily back into her chair, rubbing tiredly at her temples. "He was using his own blood at first, though, wasn't he?

"That's why he was missing so much blood at the fire, when he rescued Katrina. I wondered about that and then forgot all about it. He seemed to get better, and I just forgot. There was another time, too, though…"

She trailed off, remembering the day of the Malfoy's 'dinner' before the start of term, when he had been so pale, the first time he had brought Narcissa the potions. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I sort of… accidentally saw what he was doing." He shrugged sheepishly under her accusatory stare. "Okay, it wasn't so accidental; I was snooping. When I knew what he was doing, I told Ron and Hermione, and we confronted him. Anyway, it turned out to be a good thing in the end because otherwise he might have got really sick trying to do it all by himself."

"Somehow I doubt Professor Snape considers any snooping you've done to be a 'good thing', Harry," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't know how you survived his temper over that one."

Harry grinned and shrugged again.

"Well, I almost didn't… but I had everyone with me, Hermione and Ginny too. That's when Hermione started helping him with the medical supply potions—to help make the Blood Replenisher without Pomfrey getting suspicious. I sort of hinted that I'd tell you what was going on if he didn't let us help and so we… er… worked things out."

"And he says **I** ought to have been in Slytherin!" she exclaimed.

The explanation satisfied her, even though in this case it was not the truth. It did fill in some 'missing pieces' from months before and she had no reason to think that his blood might be needed for anything else.

* * *

In this way, four weeks of the summer Holiday were soon gone. Severus' house elves were very like him—brisk, efficient, no-nonsense, and yet capable of displays of tenderness once she got to know them. They were very fond of Katrina already and frequently plied the child with far more sweets than Severus would have approved of. They also were quick to point out what Rowena had done 'wrong' with her first sending.

"Master is not liking mustard," said Antoine loftily. "Master says heavy seasonings are for hiding bad food. You is not making bad food; you is not needing mustard."

Henry had different suggestions.

"You is sending too much sweets. Master is not liking sweets so much. Sweets is to be enjoyed in small bits to make them more special. Master isn't liking everything chocolate. Needs tangy sweets, bitter things, like lemon tarts."

Joseph surveyed it all in silence, though he inspected everything thoroughly with an expression remarkably like Severus at his most critical, considering the creature was barely taller than Katrina and had such huge eyes.

"Master is liking you," he said as he watched her transfigure the foodstuffs into vials—after allowing the elf to give final approval. "I is thinking that he is not minding you sends him the chocolates so much. I is thinking you is able to learn to take care of him right."

This, from the quiet little elf was high praise indeed!

She sent the case to Albus through her brother again, not being able to find time to leave the house while she needed to mind Katrina, and not wanting to miss the exchange. She was exceedingly disappointed, as she had hoped to see him even for an instant, in spite of his admonishments to the contrary with his letter. The wireless cube was her only source of comfort, and she listened to it every day—usually many times a day, and often moped about for a good while afterward.

The Saturday after the exchange found Remus and Tonks both at home. Instead of intruding on their rare family time together, she used that time to stay at Hogwarts with the intent to actually do some research in her own lab, rather than toting about files of notes to Number 12 every day. She lazed about in her quarters for much of the morning before finally having a late breakfast and heading to her lab.

On her desk, with her usual writing supplies, she found an inkwell that was not familiar. She resisted the urge to scoop it up at once, in the hopes that it was from Severus—between he and Moody, one or the other would skin her alive if they heard she'd been so incautious. She managed to go through the appropriate detection spells before determining that it wasn't a Portkey, booby-trapped, poisoned, or anything else obviously dangerous.

It was, however, not as it appeared, and at last she picked it up. With a small 'pop' it became a sheet of parchment, as she had hoped, containing a message from Severus.

_Rowena,_

_It is unnecessary to seek to acquire something that is already yours, such as it is._

_Albus tells me you have met Joseph, Henry, and Antoine. I ought to have introduced you sooner. I have no recollection of their original names; they might have been Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-tail for all I know. My mother and I renamed them when I was very young. It is a tale I would like to share with you, if I get out of this hell._

_I had forgotten how truly heinous this could be, to attempt to reside within this madness._

_Do not let Joseph harass you over the chocolate… or the mustard. Here, it is pleasant to be reminded that there is such richness of flavor elsewhere._

_The food sustains my body. Knowing that it is you who has prepared and sent it sustains my sanity. Obviously I have neither the time nor inclination to take such measures myself. It is a welcome change from past trials._

_There is one other thing I must ask you to do for me. No, I **implore** you to do for me. Do not leave your brother's house or Hogwarts without Auror guard—preferably several. Do not leave at all unless it is absolutely unavoidable. Do not allow Katrina out of your sight, even for an instant. I need to be certain of your safety, and hers, and it is impossible for me to verify from here._

_Yours, _

_S._

She smiled, at first, as she read the letter, remembering her comment about 'the way to a man's heart'and his 'answer' to it. The smile faded to a worried frown and she chewed her lower lip as she finished the note. She knew, from what she had seen with Harry, that he was going through a difficult time—but even then she only saw brief glimpses, never more than a few minutes at a time a few times a week. She couldn't imagine what it was really like.

This time, when the note disappeared, there was no sappy love song to listen to and weep over. The gloomy sense of despair, fear, and hopelessness in the note made research impossible. She went back to her quarters to do what she had promised herself she would not do… mope.

* * *

It was hard to say where the connection broke first, Rowena from Harry, or Harry from Voldemort. Harry ran from the room and she could hear him heaving in the loo. She just made it to the dustbin in the corner herself before losing the contents of her stomach as well.

Voldemort… his capacity for cruelty seemed boundless. His capacity to know precisely what would be the most horrific for any given 'victim' infinite.

He had Lucius bring him a small goat. A GOAT! Transfiguration was most easily done when the two items were of relatively the same size and weight. Lucius, being the one among the Death Eaters who had seen her the most, then transfigured the animal to a very good likeness of Katrina. It could not speak, of course—it had the mind of an animal.

That hardly mattered when it was screaming.

Lucius carried the 'child' into the room, struggling in his arms, and strapped her to the heavy rings on one of the tables. Severus worked in the corner on the potion, though to Rowena's knowing gaze she saw the rigid mask settle even more firmly over his features, even as he raised a sardonic brow at Lucius.

"Is this how you hone your skills these days, Lucius, on Mudblood infants? How the mighty have fallen," he said dryly.

Lucius merely grinned savagely, but barely spared a glance in Severus' direction, being too busy looking over a large case of knives and instruments of torture. Severus had his wand in hand, ostensibly prodding at the cauldron flames, apparently utterly bored with the other goings-on in the room.

Voldemort's attention was fixed on the Potions Master. The goat-child made odd, garbled noises through the human mouth, but nothing at all intelligible. Bellatrix swept into the room unmasked, and fell at the Dark Lord's feet in noisy, adoring obeisance that drew his attention downward for an instant before he turned it back to Severus. By then, Severus' wand was no longer visible and he was carefully stirring the cauldron, apparently counting strokes.

Two other masked and cloaked Death Eaters entered the room and quickly selected knives as well, laughing wickedly as though preparing for a garish feast. In an instant the goat-child's screams began to fill the room and Voldemort's mind became awash in sadistic ecstasy from the scent of blood and fear. His primary attention remained focused upon Severus, his thoughts amused and suspicious, gauging the inscrutable man's reactions.

That was when Harry and Rowena broke contact, both violently ill.

When she could stand she ran up the stairs, two at a time, all the way to the third floor bedroom. It had the largest 'windows' which still let in sunlight and fresh air even in spite of the Fidelius Charm. Katrina was blissfully napping in the lavender lace bedding, baby Sophie tucked under one arm.

Rowena collapsed in a heap next to the bed and sobbed in relief and misery. Harry arrived soon after and sat next to her, his head on his knees, still trembling. Katrina, when she woke from her nap, was delighted to have them right there and cheerfully submitted to hours of stories, as Rowena couldn't bear to let her go. She was so distraught that when Remus came home, she asked if she could stay the night in one of the spare rooms and was granted permission at once.

Now she understood why Severus' last note had been so desperate in its insistence that she make sure Katrina remained hidden and safe.

* * *

"Severus! Good lord, man, what are you doing here? It's after one in the morning," Remus said, startled as he looked up from the kettle where he had been heating water for tea. Tonks was out on a late assignment, and he liked to wait up for her. He stood quickly and waved his wand to increase the lighting in the room as Severus stepped into the kitchen. He was not soot-covered, so apparently had Apparated and come in through the door keyed for Order members. "Bloody hell… are you alright? You look awful."

"Lupin. I apologize for the intrusion. It is impossible for me to send communication just now. I needed… Is it possible that I might see Katrina? I will not wake her," he said, all but stammering and clearly out of sorts, even as he attempted to appear normal. His hands were fidgeting with several pages of parchment that he placed in the secret cabinet from which only Albus could remove things.

"Of course. You know where her room is. Did something happen? Rowena is here as well. She was agitated all evening and asked if she could spend the night."

Severus stopped at the base of the stairs to look back at Remus.

"Yes, something happened. I am not at liberty to discuss it. You must keep them both here, Lupin. Here, or Hogwarts. Do not let them anywhere else, not even for an instant… _please_."

Remus could safely say he had NEVER seen Severus Snape appear so stricken, though perhaps he had looked something like this all those years ago when the werewolf had nearly attacked him. Remus had not been in his own mind then to recall. The uncharacteristic discomposure was alarming; he could do nothing but nod.

"Thank you. You will likely want to place Potter under the same injunction."

"Alright. Rowena's in the room just past Katrina's. I'm sure she'd be disappointed if you were here and didn't wake her."

Severus simply shrugged in reply and then disappeared up the stairs as though the Devil himself was pursuing him.

For a long, long time he did nothing but stand silently in her doorway, staring at her as she slept, golden curls in riotous disarray on her pillow, her doll nearly falling out of the bed. It seemed to take hours for the tight band of white-hot panic to finally release within his chest so that he could adequately draw breath.

He knew it had not been her. Intellectually, he knew. He had seen that 'trick' before, many times. It was often used to try and force parents to fall in line. The Dark Lord did not like to 'waste' his pure-blood 'children' if he could help it, though he was not above letting the parents believe their children were being tortured to death.

He had even managed a quick spell, just to be completely certain, when Bellatrix drew the Dark Lord's attention briefly. It had been risky. If the Dark Lord saw the attempt, he would know instantly that Severus was not as indifferent to the child as he claimed, as he pretended.

It was even worse than when he had been surrounded by 'Rowena'. Or if not worse, at least as bad as. He thought he 'performed' adequately. The Dark Lord had now tested his two suspected 'weak spots' and Severus believed that he had passed the tests well enough. But there was no way to be sure.

He entered the room and tucked the doll under the covers, under the sleeping child's arm. He tenderly stroked the soft curls and bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Papi?" she asked sleepily, stirring slightly as she settled the doll closer.

"Nein, Engelchen, Severus."

Her lashes flickered and sleepy blue eyes peeked out at him, barely visible in the pale moonlight from her windows.

"Singste mir was vor, Papi?"

"Ja, mein Engelchen," he said with a pained smile. He sat on the edge of her bed and softly began to sing.

"Der Mond ist aufgegangen,  
die goldnen Sternlein prangen,  
am Himmel hell und klar.  
Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget,  
und aus den Wiesen steiget  
der weiße Nebel wunderbar."

She was asleep again before he finished, and he kissed her softly again before quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

In the darkened hall, he was torn with indecision. To know that Rowena was in the next room was torture, yet he almost succeeded in forcing himself to leave without waking her.

Almost.

"Who's there? Remus, is that you?" Her door opened and she looked out into the hall. She gasped in surprise and a fraction of an instant later she was in his arms, clutching him tightly. She buried her face against his neck and was already sobbing, trying to muffle the sound so as not to wake Katrina.

He scooped her up easily and silently carried her into the room where she had been sleeping, managing to close the door behind them before settling her down on her bed. She was utterly incoherent and clung to him so that he sat on the edge of the bed next to her, holding her and trying awkwardly to soothe her distress. Moonlight streamed in through the slightly opened window.

"Don't go back there," she sobbed when she could finally manage intelligible speech. "Don't let them do that to you anymore, it's not worth it! I can't stand it! You've been through enough already… let someone else do it!"

"Rowena, hush. You know as well as I do that what you say is impossible. I have to do it because I am the only one who can. It is only for the summer, I have to prove myself or the Order loses my information."

"Or he'll kill you, you mean," she said miserably.

"Probably not personally; he would enjoy having Lucius do it, or perhaps Bellatrix, but yes, the end result is the same," he said dryly.

"Oh God!" she cried, and hugged her arms around him tighter. "Will you stay with me a little while? Please stay a little while. Can you stay? Don't stay if it will make things more dangerous for you… if it will make everything worse."

"You are babbling, my rational Ravenclaw," he teased gently, even as he moved her over on the bed so that he could lie down beside her. "I can safely stay for a short while. Until you are asleep, perhaps."

He kicked off his boots, and she pulled the covers up over them before wrapping her arms tightly around him once again, twining her legs with his. It was the first time in weeks that the severed Bond wasn't hurting at all, but she was so wound up with fear and anxiety for him that she didn't even register the relief. The only relief was his arms around her, and soon that would be gone again.

"Your brother is still awake downstairs," Severus said. He was feeling far more composed, after having seen both 'his' girls whole and well. The horror that he would return to in the morning was nothing at all now that his worst fears were allayed, so he had capacity to think of more mundane matters. "He will be expecting me to leave soon, I think. What will he think when I do not?"

"Probably something along the lines of 'it's about bloody time'," she said, managing a weak smile only dimly visible in the dark room, and he snorted in amusement.

Her soft lips trailed fluttery kisses along his stubble-roughened jaw, and he held rigidly still. He had not kissed her since her brother's wedding, determined not to frighten her or pressure her in any way. He would not last long under her tender assault, however. Her kisses reached his mouth, her nose rubbing softly against his and his arms tightened around her.

"Rowena…"

"Hush! Hold me. Kiss me," she pleaded. Her tongue brushed his lower lip and his resolve was destroyed. He moaned into her mouth, crushing her against him. It was very much like 'coming home'. Tender, tasting, gentle kisses, a nonverbal exchange of pent up emotion—longing and fear, heartache and worry, each one soothing the other, and drawing comfort in return.

She didn't want to sleep. She kissed him as though she could devour him; consume him through taste and touch, lips and teeth and tongue, so that she could keep him with her. Her hands lovingly caressed his face, soothed the tense muscles of his back, fluttered gently across his chest as though to ease his heartache with her touch. Her fingers repeatedly entwined in his hair, the very cells of her body yearning to memorize every detail of him, every sensation.

He didn't want to sleep. Potions would overcome the physical exhaustion when he was gone from her. Only her kisses could soothe the more desperate weariness of his very soul. He drank in the sweetness of her kiss as though he was truly the vampire some of his students accused him of being. Instead of needing blood for sustenance, he needed her kisses, her touch and her sweet breath mingling with his own. Her hands on his body soothed like a cool balm on savage sunburn. He was even now too lost in hopelessness and despair to answer his body's call to desire.

He kissed her desperately, as though he could store away the sweetness as defense against the savage depths of hell.

He kissed her tenderly, as though to leave her fond and gentle memories to comfort her in her future loneliness, a sweet 'good bye' to cherish in case he did not return.

He kissed her hungrily, as though her kisses fed his body every bit as much as the clandestine, lovingly prepared food that she sent.

The kisses tasted of the bitter saltiness of tears and he was grateful for the deniability of darkness, that he could tell himself they were only hers.

* * *

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She hadn't meant to let him go. Her arms ached with emptiness after clinging to him so tightly. The bright sunshine pouring through the window illuminated the empty pillow that still retained the impression if his head.

A small black cube for a wireless lay innocently on the pillow. He had come and gone like a shadow in the night, and if not for the cube and the reddened marks on her neck and throat, she might have thought it to be only a very vivid dream. The marks alarmed her slightly and she worried that she might have likewise stained his fair skin in her desperation. She hoped he would think to check and hide them if she had!

There was nothing to do but go on, clinging to the hope of summer's end and some easing of this madness.

She locked her door to ensure herself needed privacy and then put the cube in the wireless she had brought with her so she could listen to the first song before she went to sleep as she had done every night since he had given it to her.

**Hands to Heaven – Breathe **  
_ "Tomorrow I must leave, the dawn knows no reprieve God give me strength when I am leaving…"_

She had thought to be 'out' of tears. The aborted healer in her mind struggled to cling to rational thought, wondering how much one person could weep before becoming dehydrated or damaging electrolyte balance.

"_So raise your hands to heaven and pray  
__That we'll be back together someday  
Tonight, I need your sweet caress  
Hold me in the darkness  
Tonight, you calm my restlessness  
You relieve my sadness…"_

She couldn't be bothered to care about something like fluid-balance at a time like this. She wept freely, listening to the music. She thought her heart might break from the bittersweet message contained within it.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for more emotional squickiness. I do not believe in 'pulling punches'. War sucks even when justified, and I personally believe Severus' role is every bit as horrific and dangerous as I am trying to portray it. Er, obviously, or I wouldn't write it that way, I guess. Heh.

German translations, thanks to Lady Claire:

Papi—Daddy  
Nein, Engelchen—No, little angel  
Singste mir was vor, Papi?—Sing for me, daddy?  
"Ja, mein Engelchen—yes, my little angel

The lullaby:

The moon has risen,  
the golden (little) stars are flaunting,  
in the sky bright and clear.  
The forest is black and silent,  
and from the meadows rises,  
the white fog wonderful.  
(This translation is only rudimental.)


	48. Chapter 48: New Acquaintances

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL for the speedy and awesome beta work! A special thank you to JL who spent a great deal of time on this chapter to help me portray the Irish Brogue more accurately with our new DADA Professor.

I failed to make clear in preceding chapters that the German translations were provided by Lady Claire, including the lyrics and translation for the common German lullaby. Also, Surgical Steel is my source for the reference to 'Cotton Eyed Joe' dance at the wedding as well as appropriate country-music selections. I start getting in a hurry and I forget to credit people who have helped me! Sorry!

For more detailed credits and comments in response to reviews, please see my livejournal, I am weasleyfan and anyone may read my journal.

* * *

Chapter 48: New Acquaintances

* * *

Once again the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was open with no ready candidate to fill it. The Board of Governors stepped in with their suggestion, which was an unusual occurrence, but, as Albus had no other applicants and no real reason to refuse, this individual was hired.

Caitlin Garvey was a witch from Ireland a few years older than Severus Snape. She had been schooled privately in a small all-girls academy, her parents not wanting her to get involved in the war which even then seemed to focus upon Hogwarts, or at least its Headmaster. She had made her living since then as a private tutor between dueling contests, which she almost always won. Filius was anxious to meet her, having been out of the contest circuit himself by the time she joined it, though he had fond memories of his days on the road.

That she had no known links to Voldemort or his Death Eaters was a point in her favor, though she had no known links to Dumbledore or his Order as well. She was, essentially, an Unknown. Lucius Malfoy invited her to his home at once as soon as he knew she was on the short list of potentials to fill the job.

* * *

Harry spent the remainder of the summer at Number 12. Rowena did not see Severus again except through Harry's odd link with Voldemort. Even this they practiced with decreasing frequency, partially because Harry seemed to have mastered the technique as well as he was going to without new instruction from Severus and partially because neither of them could stomach witnessing atrocities that they were helpless to prevent or alleviate.

Joseph, Henry, and Antoine seemed to accept Rowena, though they could not be called friendly. They remained hidden from all but her and Katrina, though Remus did give his permission for them to come into the house and interact with Katrina however they might like.

"Master Sevvie trusts Joseph with his most important secrets," the elf said to her one day in the middle of August. Harry received his school book list on the same day and he and Rowena sat in the drawing room discussing the best way for Harry to go shopping for his new supplies. In the end they decided they would need to ask Albus' advice and perhaps have Tonks or Remus do the actual shopping for him. Harry left the room to send an Owl to Ron, leaving Rowena by herself by the empty fireplace idly reading a Charms Journal, though her attention wasn't much focused on it.

"Master says you is not to help the Potter boy shopping. You is to stay in the house."

"I know, Joseph," she said with a weary smile. She was very grateful that house-elves tended to refer to themselves in the third person, or she would never be able to tell the three apart. The weeks since she had last seen Severus were weighing heavily on her so that she felt more anxious every day. The ache of the severed Bond seemed mild compared to the constriction of her heart in worry.

"I promised him that Katrina and I would stay safely in here. I won't break that now; the least I can do is make sure he has that much peace of mind."

The house elf gave her a piercing look reminiscent of his master, before nodding.

"Joseph is supposed to give you this when you is needing it most. You is working hard to be helping my Master. I is thinking you is needing this just now."

He produced a small black wireless cube, gave it to her before bowing very formally, and disappeared from the room with a loud 'pop'. She held the cube tightly in her hand, as though it might disappear like the elf, but then ran upstairs to the room Remus and Tonks had designated as hers, and put it in the wireless with the other two at once.

**Somewhere Out There by Kenny Loggins**

"…_And even though I know how very far apart we are  
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star_  
_And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby  
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky…"_

She had very little time to savor the joyful sorrow that had come to accompany these uncharacteristically tender messages when one of the house elves appeared again, bowing low.

"The Headmaster is here and is wanting to see you. He is waiting in the drawing room."

Another low bow and 'pop' and the creature vanished before she could make a guess as to which one it was. She turned off the wireless, wiped away the nearly ever-present tears, and headed downstairs.

Albus was sitting in the chair Harry had been using an hour before.

"Well, the train is in working order once again. We'll have two officers from Magical Law Enforcement per car and one Auror for every two cars. Are you ready for school to resume, Rowena?"

"Yes," she said decisively. She would miss all the extra time with Katrina, but she couldn't stand much more of the worry over Severus. Albus seemed to understand because he smiled gently and nodded.

"This has been a very long summer. I'm immensely grateful to Severus for his sacrifice. I doubt we'd have had such a quiet summer if he was not... doing what he is doing. Hopefully it will be sufficient."

"It has to be," she said, almost desperately. "It just has to be. He's been through enough."

"I certainly hope so, Rowena. I very much hope so." He sighed and looked at her very gravely. "You have also been through quite an ordeal and I'm afraid it is not over. I have no idea of the loyalties of my newest Defense Professor. When it was Dylan that hardly seemed to matter, as he came from such a distance away—it is unlikely that Voldemort has been seeking supporters in America.

"However, in the case of Caitlin Garvey, I have a good many concerns. She has lived in Ireland nearly all her life and was never a Hogwarts student. However, her parents had contacts with the Blacks and Malfoys, among others, and I believe she went to the same 'finishing school' as some of those women. She must be considered suspect at best.

"It is very possible that she is eyes and ears for Voldemort, specifically set to spy—not on me, or even on Harry, but on Severus. He is the key now, and his every action will be closely watched by the students and perhaps by Professor Garvey."

"I see," she said, resignedly. If she had been hoping for a happy reunion when they both returned to the school, she was now shown how mistaken such a hope would be. If anything, he would have to be colder and more distant with her now than before. "Thank you for telling me."

"I think there have been enough obstacles between the two of you, without adding miscommunication to the mix," Albus said, unknowingly echoing her comment to Severus at Remus' wedding.

He stood and patted her rather absently on her shoulder before leaving, saying something about needing to have a word with Harry before going back to the school.

* * *

Caitlin Garvey was gorgeous. She had thick, shoulder-length auburn-red hair that framed her porcelain smooth face in gentle waves. Her eyes were a clear, crystal blue that seemed to be always smiling and laughing. Her voice was rich and deep, her accent a thick Irish brogue that all but rolled off her tongue as she chatted and laughed amicably with the other Professors. She was bright and vivid where Rowena was dull and mousy. She was vivacious and outgoing where Rowena was quiet and reserved. She had a full, lush figure and wore her robes to show it off to perfect advantage.

She was, in short, everything Rowena was NOT.

She was also sitting in Rowena's chair, next to the empty seat that would eventually be occupied by Severus. The Hall was already full of students, the excited hum of conversation filling the air like the buzzing of a thousand lazy honeybees on a warm summer afternoon. Rowena had taken great care with her own appearance today, simply in excited anticipation of seeing Severus again at last.

For all her care, she still felt like a dandelion in comparison to the exotic rose that was Caitlin Garvey—and she hadn't even officially MET the other woman yet. She paused briefly as she walked into the hall, being momentarily distressed at finding her normal chair occupied. Minerva gave her a rather sympathetic glance with a half shrug, and Rowena merely walked around the table to the seat which had been Dylan's all of last year, almost directly across from Severus.

"Who's the wee Colleen?" asked Caitlin, laughingly as she spied Rowena. "Sure, I didna tink tere'd be children teachin' students!"

"This is Professor Lupin, Professor Garvey," Minerva said coolly. "She is not a student, but a fellow teacher. Her class is Magical Theory."

"Pleased to meet you, Professor Garvey," Rowena said icily.

'Child' indeed! She wasn't _THAT_ short! The flashy woman's attention was immediately drawn from Rowena, however, and instead her gaze snapped to the door.

"Now tere be a man t'hold a woman's attention," she said appreciatively. Rowena didn't need to turn her head to know that Severus had just entered the hall. He approached his chair and stopped, scowling down at the gorgeous woman in Rowena's chair without the slightest hint of masculine appreciation.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled. Caitlin merely smiled.

"I'd be the new Defense Professor," she said in her thick brogue. She held out a perfectly manicured hand to him as though leaving it for him to decide whether to shake it or to kiss it. "I'm Caitlin Garvey."

"Splendid," he said sarcastically. He raised a brow at her outstretched hand and sneered. He glanced across the table at Rowena as he took his seat. "Perhaps eventually we will get someone in the job actually capable of performing the task. Lupin, is your brother unavailable? At least he wasn't afraid of breaking a claw in the line of duty."

He only looked at her very briefly before scanning his eyes about the room, carefully cataloging the students as he did at the start of every term. Caitlin did not seem the least bit embarrassed by his treatment and merely reached for her goblet with her outstretched hand.

"Lupin? Was he no' the werewolf what taught here a few years ago?" she asked, turning to Rowena, intrigued. "I saw articles in the Prophet 'bout him. I didna associate the name 'til now--he was your brother?"

Rowena followed Severus' lead and carefully paid no more attention to Severus than to any of the other teachers.

"He _is_ my brother," she corrected the woman coolly, before answering Severus' question. "I dare say Remus would love to come back and teach, Snape. Unfortunately, the Ministry hasn't seen fit to lift certain employment restrictions."

"I should tink no'!" Garvey exclaimed. "Vicious beasts tey are. I've been on a few hunts m'self. Had a couple o'close calls. I never have understood why the Ministry changed the laws on extermination."

"That would be because the lycanthrope is a human-being with a disease, Garvey," Snape said, looking at her with his haughtiest disdain. "It is the failure of the medical and magical community not to be able to cure the disease. It is not the fault of the afflicted. You have, perhaps, heard of the Wolfsbane potion? It is an effective treatment if the lycanthrope is responsible enough to remember to consume it in a timely manner."

It was the first time Rowena had ever had opportunity to witness and fully appreciate Severus' gift for being contrary, just for the sake of being contrary. Had Albus tried to hire Remus again, or even another werewolf with no past history with Severus, she was certain that he would have argued just as vehemently against the appointment as he was defending the 'afflicted' now.

No wonder he hadn't made many friends over the years!

She glanced up at him to see if she could read his expression, just as Hagrid was noisily introducing himself to Garvey, going on about how 'happy' he was to meet her. Severus' eyes met hers and he gave her a very small wink before returning to his personal inventory of the student body.

"So, then, I didna catch your name," Garvey said, returning her attention to Severus with an almost rapt expression.

"That would be because I did not offer it," he said dryly. "Are you always this astute?"

She laughed airily and Minerva cut in, as Albus had not yet arrived and she seemed to feel it was her duty to make the introductions before Severus succeeded in scaring off yet another Defense Professor.

"Caitlin Garvey, this is our Potions Master, Severus Snape. Severus, I must go and greet the first year students. I trust I can leave before Albus arrives and not fear that you will frighten away our Defense Professor before she even conducts her first class?"

"If she is easily frightened off by the obvious truth, then she has no business teaching Defense, Minerva. I assure you, I am completely harmless."

Hooch made no effort to hide her laugh at THAT comment, and even Rowena had to struggle to conceal her grin.

"Not at all, Professor McGonagall," Caitlin said reassuringly. She turned her attention back to Severus just as Albus was entering the Hall.

"I see everyone has arrived already—I am seldom the last to a feast. Usually that is Severus' prerogative," he said genially as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Caitlin, I am sorry I was not here to greet you. Have you met everyone now?"

"Minerva was just making the happy introductions, Headmaster. I believe we have met all the requirements of etiquette," Severus said irritably. Albus merely beamed around the table, ignoring him.

"Aye, Albus," Caitlin said, "I've met everyone just fine. I see Potions Professors are the same the world over, be they man or woman. Our Potions Mistress was a right Beansidhe, an' that was on a good day."

"Really? I've not had much opportunity to study the subject. Perhaps it is all those fumes from student cauldrons," Albus said conversationally.

Severus rolled his eyes in disgust, but thankfully Minerva herded in the first year students then with the sorting hat and stool and so conversation was blessedly at an end.

As the sorting began, Rowena felt a nudging of her foot. At first, she thought it was merely an accident, as she did have her legs slightly stretched out beneath the table. However, the second time, she risked another glance at Severus, who was sitting almost directly across from her, and a foot covered her toes and pressed down lightly.

After that, the sorting was much more interesting as she tried not to give herself away by smiling too much at Severus playing 'footsie' with her, unseen beneath the long tablecloth.

* * *

She tried not to be disappointed that he didn't come and see her for days on end. Granted, she didn't go and see HIM, either, but that was because whenever she had a legitimate reason to accidentally pass by his lab on the way to her own, that revolting Garvey woman was hanging about, flirting with him outrageously. Or his door would be closed altogether and Albus would hint that he was away for the evening.

Now, if Rowena had been in a state of mind to be fair or rational about the scenario, she would have admitted that Severus did not pay the slightest attention to the flamboyant woman. It galled her to think that she was now almost in exactly Severus' shoes from the year before. That, of course, was entirely different, because Dylan was _nice;_ he was her _friend;_ and he was gay (though as far as she knew, Severus still didn't know that part.)

However, she was in no mood to be fair, OR rational. She was very careful not to show any jealousy that could make Garvey suspicious, but she made no effort to pretend to be friendly with her, either.

The woman sat in 'her' chair every day and seemed to constantly scoot it closer to Severus as she reached for this or that dish on the table. Rowena might have chalked that particular complaint up as a figment of her own irrational jealousy if Severus himself had not commented upon it scathingly one morning. Garvey had just leaned heavily across him when he suddenly scooted his chair a foot away from the table accompanied by the loud scraping of chair-legs on the stone floor. He allowed his voice to fall into the firm, carrying tones he used with his more noxious students.

"Garvey, I do not know what sort of barn you were born in or who taught you your abominable table manners, but HERE, it is considered proper etiquette to request a dish to be PASSED to you."

The redhead had actually blushed in embarrassment at the sudden pause in conversation that his actions and words had caused. He did not move his chair back into the table until she had moved HER chair a good six inches away from his. At which time Rowena felt the gentle tapping of heavy boots against her shoes. The 'footsie' was the only thing keeping Rowena from hexing the woman herself.

* * *

Often in the evenings she left the castle to go to Number 12 and be with Katrina, just to keep her mind off of her increasing jealousy. However, that was not always possible either and there were occasions when the obnoxious woman would pay a 'friendly' visit to Rowena in her lab, which vexed her almost as much as the thought of her in Severus' lab.

"The man is a pouf," Caitlin announced without preamble, as she flounced into Rowena's lab, vivid curls bouncing, and flopped onto one of the few comfy chairs in the place.

"Excuse me?" Rowena asked politely, trying to appear engrossed in her work so that perhaps Garvey would leave quickly.

"Snape. He be the only single bloke 'round here anywhere near the right age, aside from Hagrid who's just no' me type. I tink that if he cut his hair an' did sometin' a little different wit' it, he wouldna be half-bad t'look at."

"What?" Rowena asked, unable to keep herself from looking up in shock.

"No, really. He's got very distinctive features; he just hides them behind all that hair. Wit' all t'ose cauldrons steamin' 'round him all the time, someone ought t'tell him he should wash it twice a day. Tere be some charms that could prevent the steam from weighin' it down so much. I'd bet wit' work he might even be attractive."

"With _WORK_," Rowena repeated indignantly. Garvey appeared to take her indignation for disbelief and shrugged.

"Sure. You've got t' work wit' what's available. He's got a ready mind, sharp wit -- a bit too sharp fer that matter. He's definitely got potential. The right woman could fix him right up," she said decisively.

"Perhaps Professor Snape is satisfied with himself as he is. Perhaps in his mind the right woman would accept that."

"Tosh! Dinna be ridiculous. That's why I'm sure he be a Nancy. I've never had a man resist me this long once I decided what I wanted. As soon as I saw him I tought he'd liven up this school year just fine, but for nought," she said, waving her wand to reheat the water in Rowena's teapot so that she could help herself to Rowena's tea, uninvited.

It was impossible to coherently answer that statement without revealing too much. Somehow the woman had so far been left out of the 'rumor mill' that ought to have told her of the aborted 'engagement' from last term. Rowena wasn't about to be the one to enlighten her. She merely shrugged and returned to her work.

Eventually Garvey gave her up as a bad job and left.

* * *

The golden Announcer arrived with breakfast three weeks into the term. She had been trying to surreptitiously look at Severus, who was only half-heartedly tapping at her toes even though Garvey was not bothering him for a change. He looked exhausted and Albus was casting him worried glances as well. She knew he was still making regular excursions from the castle to do... whatever he was doing and the tight lines about his face told her of too little sleep and Cruciatus exposure.

She only caught the flutter of gold out of the corner of her eye and barely paid it any heed until the owl carrying it scratched her impatiently with one long talon.

"Ow! Hey... oh, sorry, is that for me?" she said apologetically to the creature, which ruffled its wings in annoyance before flying away.

An Announcer is much the same as a Howler in mechanics for sending--but on the opposite spectrum as far as effect and reason for usage. She opened the golden envelope and a shower of brightly colored confetti exploded over her, while magically magnified music, "Brahms Lullaby", played into the Hall. A male voice spoke over the music, as follows:

"Kevin and Elizabeth Miller announce the birth of their son, Garrett Michael, born this 19th day of September, 1997. Weight 7 pounds 3 oz, length 21 inches long. Mother and baby are doing fine, and will be accepting visitors at St. Mungo's until September 22, at which time visitors will be cheerfully received at home."

The envelope then shredded itself into still more confetti and the music died away. The students in the hall listened with interest, but as it was nothing scandalous or involving anyone they knew, they lost interest as soon as the noise was over. The teachers regarded Rowena curiously.

"Oh!" Rowena said with a smile that was both happy and wistful. "My friend Eliza... I haven't seen her since I left the Ministry and we were so close before. I didn't even know she was expecting!"

She took out a small pocket calendar from her bag and wrote down the dates.

"They live in Kent," she said, frowning. "Albus... I know you don't want us traveling unless absolutely necessary... but is there any way I could go and see her while she's still at the Hospital? It would be safer then waiting until she goes home."

"I'm certain we can work something out, Rowena. I'll want someone to go with you, of course."

"I can ask Remus...oh, damn," she said, looking back at her calendar, "full moon, that won't work. And Tonks will have to be with Katrina."

"Sure, I'd go with you, but I hate babies," said Garvey with her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Besides, I've got a date this weekend," she added, casting a look at Severus under her lashes as though hoping he would be disturbed by this news.

"Let me contact Alastor, Rowena, and I'll get back to you," said Dumbledore.

"I have need to visit London this weekend to retrieve a shipment of very delicate Potions ingredients, Headmaster. I would be willing to escort Lupin to the Hospital, so long as I am not expected to follow her about," Severus said in bored tones as he flipped the page of The Daily Prophet.

"Is that acceptable to you, Rowena?" Albus said, clearly trying not to smile too broadly. "You would have to be available for transportation at Severus' whim, I'm afraid. You'd be safe enough inside the Hospital itself."

"Well, when are you going to London, Snape? How long will I have to visit?" she asked, working hard to keep her voice casual as though considering his offer.

"Today or tomorrow. I would be willing to find some means to entertain myself in London, aside from my primary task, for no more than three hours. Leave by four; return to Hogwarts by nine. For this shipment, I fly, as it is too fragile to remain stable during magical transportation."

"Alright, then. I can manage that, if it's not too much inconvenience. I would prefer to go tomorrow if it doesn't matter to you. That way I can have time to shop in Hogsmeade for a gift."

Severus shrugged, not even glancing up at her, apparently engrossed in his newspaper.

"I will not wait; do not be late. So long as you do not interfere with my own errand, the inconvenience is minor."

* * *

It was with a very strong sense of deja-vu that Rowena strode out onto the lawns in the lengthening shadows of early evening, her bag slung at her hip full of presents for the baby and Elizabeth. Hagrid stood next to his cabin beaming at her, with a Thestral waiting.

"Yeh ever met a sneakier bloke than that Snape?" Hagrid said in an exaggerated whisper as he grinned at her. "Tryin' t' preten' that he didn't wan' ta go with ya."

"Hagrid, hush," said Rowena, even as she tried not to giggle. "What if Garvey hears?"

"Nah, she left the grounds last night; don't 'spect her back 'til tomorrow. Dumbledore had her followed; she's in Ireland with a bloke.

"There's a scarlet woman if ever I seen one! I dunno how she ever got approved fer teachin' students. She's got all them boys droolin' after her and all them girls cryin' in their shoes in jealousy. None of 'em can pay attention to their lessons. Wonder how long she spends with vanity charms before she looks like that, anyhow."

"Hours, probably," said a dry voice behind her and her smiling face lit up even more.

"Severus, what a horrible thing to say about a fellow Professor," she chided without any real reprimand to the words.

"Come, Lupin. I have no time for dawdling," he said sardonically. He gripped her gently at her waist and boosted her up onto the Thestral before swinging up behind her. He reached around her to grasp the mane, and in an instant they were off.

It was heaven. Three weeks of seeing him but not being able to be with him, unsatisfactory 'footsie' under the table, worries over his health... all of it, vanished in the bliss of his arms. She leaned heavily back into his embrace and reached one arm back to twine her fingers into his hair... (that _woman_ had wanted to cut it!)

She turned as much as she could and pulled him forward so that it was just possible to kiss him lightly. His arm around her waist tightened like a band of steel, holding her safe and close. She gave no thought to her fear of heights, her heart soaring in her chest at the bliss of being in his arms again. He kissed and nipped at her ears and the sensitive skin behind them, nuzzling along the nape of her neck. The chill September air ought to have had them half frozen at that altitude, but their bodies paid no heed to it in the warmth of each other.

This was also their first opportunity for free conversation, however, and eventually that desire at least temporarily won over the questing kisses.

"Are you well? Katrina? The elves tell me you never left the house after my visit... thank you," he said, so near to her ear that he did not have to raise his voice to be heard, even in the rushing wind. The low tones thrummed over her skin like warm honey and she shivered slightly as she melted even further against him.

"We're fine. Katrina misses you desperately. What about you? You've been looking so tired lately and gone so much. I've been so worried."

"Well enough, as much as can be expected. We will know soon if it has all been for nothing."

"You never come to see me. Is Garvey a Death Eater?" she asked.

"I am being watched too closely to risk visiting you and I have no idea if she is a Death Eater or not. Her voice and accent are unfamiliar, but that can be faked or magically altered. Lucius speaks highly of her, but then so he did of you last summer. So that means nothing. I believe he has slept with her, though that does not seem to be any sort of a conquest," he said with a tone of disgust.

She giggled.

"You mean you haven't been tempted by her displays just for you?"

"Certainly not," he said with distaste, but then nipped at her ear as he asked silkily, "Why... are you jealous?"

"Yes," she said firmly, without even attempting to equivocate. He laughed, and she wished she could bathe in the rich, uncomplicated sound.

"I think I could learn to like that," he teased. "Imagine, two women fighting over _ME_, jealous over _ME_. Who would believe such a thing? Serves you right for your behavior with Howard all of last year."

She laughed in return and squeezed her arms around his tightly. He rewarded her with more drugging kisses of her neck and shoulder so that her insides felt too molten to actually support her weight when at last they landed in St. Mungo's courtyard.

"I truly do have to retrieve some potions ingredients," he said as he helped her off the Thestral. "It won't take long. I will come find you -- your friend's name is Miller?"

"Yes."

"Very well, I will return shortly. Do not leave until I come for you and, if you do not see me by eight o'clock, use your Portkey or find your father to get you safely back to Hogwarts. Do not floo there." He lowered his voice and leaned close, speaking in her ear again. "Research is being done on ways to interrupt and divert floo travel. Do not trust floo transport."

She gave him a horror-stricken look, but he shook his head, preventing further conversation on the topic at present. He escorted her inside the building, and then left again without another word.

* * *

Garrett Michael Miller was an adorable baby with full, chubby cheeks and thick dark hair. Rowena sat next to Elizabeth's bed, holding and rocking the infant, while Elizabeth and Kevin opened the presents. There was a blue outfit, a small stuffed crup, and a magical mobile of a Quidditch pitch where the tiny players zoomed about for the baby's entertainment -- faster if the baby cried or fussed, slow and gentle if the baby was quiet or sleeping. There was also a basket of feminine scented bubble bath and lotion for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was dressed in a very pretty pink set of brand-new lounge robes, surrounded by flowers and balloons. She was a charmingly pretty, friendly-faced blonde woman. Her husband was a dark-haired man whose normally cheerful demeanor looked more than a little bemused and shell-shocked, as though he still couldn't quite believe he was now a father.

Severus knocked on the frame of the open door after Rowena had been there not quite an hour. Kevin regarded the stranger with alarm until Rowena spoke.

"Severus, come in; meet my friends," she said smilingly. "This is Elizabeth; I've known her since I started work at the Ministry ages ago. It was her sister... who was court reporter for the Wizengamot."

She glanced up at him sheepishly and knew by the slight raise of one brow that he understood the reference, that it was this woman's sister who had told her of Dumbledore's testimony on his behalf all those years ago.

"And this is her husband Kevin, whom I am sorry to say I only met at their wedding and have never managed to see since," she said, smiling at her friend's husband. "This is Professor Severus Snape. He teaches Potions at Hogwarts."

"A pleasure to meet you," Severus said very formally.

Elizabeth grinned as she looked from Rowena's faint blush to Severus' inscrutable gaze as he stared at Rowena holding the baby.

"I've heard a great deal about you over the years, Professor Snape. I have almost been led to believe that no one else in the wizarding world is remotely competent at Potions, at least when compared to you," she said, smiling brightly.

Severus smirked and bowed his head slightly.

"I think that would be an accurate summation," he dead-panned. Rowena and Eliza both laughed.

The baby squeaked at the sudden noise and Rowena tightened his blankets around him, crooning softly and rocking. She nestled him closer to her and almost involuntarily ran her nose through the soft downy hair of his head.

"Why do babies always smell so good?" she asked Elizabeth, as they both began to fuss over how 'cute' he was and how 'perfect'.

"Ugh, watch out, mate. That's how this whole thing got started. Lizzy's sister had a baby, and she got to smelling her hair. Pretty soon, she decided she had to have one of her own," Kevin said jokingly to Severus.

"You mistake the situation, sir. Rowena making such a decision would have no bearing on me," he said calmly.

"Oh, right then," Kevin said. Severus was too busy watching Rowena with the baby to notice the look of blatant skepticism on the other man's face.

"Would you like to hold him, Professor?" Elizabeth asked as she caught his gaze.

"Oh... Severus hasn't been around babies much," Rowena said hurriedly, as though she was afraid he might say something unpleasant or insulting about her friend's infant.

"What little experience I have had leads me to surmise that they are less unpleasant at this stage then when standing near a cauldron in my classroom," he said dryly.

"Severus!" Rowena said, laughing again. "You'll make Eliza afraid to send little Garret to Hogwarts talking like that. We heard enough of how 'mean' you were to the students at work, didn't we Lizzy? The parents always went on and on about how 'unfair' your grading strictures are."

"They still do," Elizabeth agreed, smiling. "But I was a Ravenclaw with Rowena. We always thought the harder marks were the only ones worth earning, didn't we?"

Severus merely smirked in response, though he did move closer to Rowena to have a better look at the creature in her arms. The infant was a stark contrast to his memories of his sister. The eyes were bright and alert, though unfocused; the plump face pink and healthy. Tiny arms flailed about randomly through the air and he held out a finger, letting the tiny fist reflexively close over it.

It was bittersweet to behold and for a moment he allowed his memory to superimpose this 'snapshot' to contrast with images of his sister. Rowena appeared to him to be every bit as radiant as the new mother was. In another life, perhaps, this might have been the two of them peering at _their_ child, rather than another's. Another life, another reality that he was becoming increasingly certain would not be occurring in _this_ one.

It only took a few moments before the internal longing for the impossible became enough. He gently extracted his finger from the chubby hand and retreated to a chair near the father, waiting with carefully practiced patient boredom for Rowena to have done and say her good-byes.

He hardened his heart firmly against wistful wishes for the impossible.

* * *

He claimed that it was due to the bulkiness of his ingredients in the satchel hung over his left hip, but he did not settle Rowena astride the Thestral. Instead he mounted first and pulled her up, sidesaddle, in front of him. She made no objections, and as soon as they were in the air, away from prying eyes, she twisted slightly from facing forward to facing him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Thank you for coming with me," she said, nuzzling his ear while moving close enough to be heard. "Lizzy's been my best friend for years. I feel awful that I haven't seen her since I moved to Hogwarts."

"It was no hardship to accompany you, Lupin," he said, smirking at her. "I had to make this trip anyway. I concede your company is more pleasant than warming charms."

"Thanks a lot!" she exclaimed, laughing in playful indignation. He decided that enough time had been wasted in banter and silenced her with a demanding kiss.

His resolve not to long for the impossible crumbled, as he found himself wishing that the flight could last forever.

* * *

A/N: Beansidhe -- Banshee, though JL gave me the Gaelic spelling to add color and realism to Caitlin's dialect.

Brit Pickers: In the interest of time I did not have a chance to research how you folks do your birth announcements—do you measure your babies in grams/ centimeters? I believe I understood that things like this were still predominantly given in 'English' measurements, even though metric is in common use there as well.

London, and all of the people in the UK are in my thoughts and prayers as you face and deal with the horrific bombings that occurred yesterday.


	49. Chapter 49: Sacrifice

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL—without whom I would never have gotten so far so fast! As of 7/11/2005, the story is complete! I am just waiting to get final edits done from their comments and corrections.

Lost Souls Found has been nominated at the Multifaceted Awards under the category of 'best Snape fic'. I have a link to the website in my live journal if you feel inclined to look it over. Winners are determined by votes of the readers, and there are a great many excellent fanfictions nominated there. I am honored beyond words that Lost Souls Found is among the nominees.

My LiveJournal username is weasleyfan, and anyone may read my journal.

* * *

Chapter 49: Sacrifice

* * *

Nothing lasts forever—not pleasant Thestral rides with a lover and not weeks of hellish stress of the most unimaginable sort. Eventually, something has to give.

It was an odd reconciliation between himself and Rowena, as though the fear of the situation made lesser issues disappear. He was not dissatisfied with the warmth of her sly glances across the table, or the rare stolen kisses which were the result, but he now worried she was being overly naïve and optimistic again as was her nature.

The last three months had made him feel all but certain he was not going to survive this final, crucial 'test', whatever it might turn out to be. She would be hurt again regardless of his best efforts to prevent it.

Late one evening, near the end of September, Potter came to his dungeons—following directions for a change. He was thoroughly concealed in his infernal cloak and toting along the map to ensure he was not seen by anyone—especially Garvey. Severus harvested the necessary amount of blood while Potter stood silently.

The boy was rewarded for his silent obedience by being permitted to ask questions after the harvesting was complete, and he had consumed the appropriate potions. Severus might find the boy exceedingly noxious, but he was not about to be responsible for his demise over something as mundane as low hemoglobin.

Potter, for his part, did seem to be making a concerted effort to be less idiotic. Perhaps the things he had witnessed lately caused him to have a heightened respect for Snape. Perhaps it was because he knew Snape would indeed make good on his threats. Perhaps it was simply because he was actually learning useful things in their most private of defensive training sessions. Whatever the reason, Potter generally behaved respectfully, if grudgingly so.

"Is it going to work, sir?" he asked this evening, having been told this would be the last necessary 'harvest'.

"Impossible to say with surety," Severus said brusquely as he carefully preserved the sample and placed it in his case. "I would not be wasting my time if I was not as certain as possible. Unless you would care to volunteer as a test subject? In which case you would have to undergo an intensive series of very complex potions, rituals and spells, many of them Dark in nature, for many years. Then, unsuccessfully use the Killing Curse on someone so that it rebounds upon you in the precise but unknown method necessary for you to almost, but not quite, expire. Then take another great series of potions, many of which are utterly substandard and of dubious efficacy due to being brewed by imbeciles. Finally, you would need to consume this one, which would have to be re-brewed to be specific to your weaknesses, at which time I would be glad to attempt to kill you—or more precisely, have you attempt to kill me. If the curse rebounded and you died, I could rest assured this potion, will indeed, 'work'. "

"You could have just said you don't know," Harry said sulkily. "Nobody knows everything all the time. There's no shame in saying 'I don't know'… sir."

Severus cast a dark glare in his direction, but finished cleaning and putting away his supplies to hide the evidence of the 'collection' he had just done.

"I don't know, Potter," he said sarcastically. "However, I am reasonably confident in my skills. If he uses it appropriately, I am fairly certain it will work."

"Work how, exactly?" Harry asked, hopping up to sit on the desk that was 'his' in class. "I mean, what can you tell me?"

"You mother's magic resides in you. Albus has told you this, yes?" Severus asked him, returning to sit in his own chair behind his desk. Harry nodded. "The Dark Lord, when he used your blood to return to his own body, thought he was giving himself some of that magic, that strength and protection. In one sense, he has. He could touch you then, and could still do so now.

"I believe—though I have no way to test the belief—had his curse hit you in the graveyard that summer, the effect would have been precisely the same as when you were an infant. It would have rebounded on him—possibly killing him entirely because he had not had time to complete the rituals he used before to prevent his death. However, it is also likely you would have died as well—because there had been no new energy input into the magic which protected you initially. The protection is still there, but much weaker than at the instance of her sacrifice."

He raised a brow inquiringly.

"Are you following me, Potter?"

Harry nodded, and Severus continued.

"He does not know I am using your blood for this potion. Several of my older Slytherin students who have been assisting me here in the lab, have been willing, indeed _enthusiastic_ donors. They and he believe it is their blood being used. The blood of young purebloods at the peak of physical prime is a very powerful rejuvenator, among other things.

"Your blood is the key. It no longer strengthens him _against_ you. If the potion works properly, you will notice even greater ease in accessing the odd connection between you and you will have greater control. Some of the things you have been passive witness to me doing, you will be able to do and he will not be able to recognize your presence. His mind will not recognize yours as an outsider.

"This is dangerous for you, as well, and again I warn you never to make such attempts without someone grounding you. Your mind will gradually cease to recognize his mind as corrupt.

"The benefit of all this will come when you face one another. His magic will not function properly against you no matter how hard he might focus his intent and bring his power to bear. Your mother's protection, residing within him, through your blood, will not allow him to attack you properly. Moreover, any curse he does use against you will do far more to strengthen your magic against him—his own efforts will become the new energy to restore and revive your mother's protection fully."

Harry stared at him with his jaw hanging open, gobsmacked.

"You… you can _do_ that?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"No, Potter, your mother did that. I don't like you nearly well enough to make the attempt, let alone have it be remotely effective. However, making a potion to enhance what she already did… _THAT_ I can do," he said with haughty satisfaction. He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the leather armrest, waiting for the next inevitable question.

"So then what happens?" Harry asked.

"Then, you must either use that energy to kill him, or get him to attempt to kill you once again. Albus tells me you are feeling squeamish about using the Killing Curse. The combination of my potion and your mother's protection should make it unnecessary for you to wound your delicate sensibilities.

"It is probably just as well. The Curse cannot be accomplished without the proper intent behind it—I trust you have heeded Professor Lupin's lectures regarding the effects of intent on the end result of any given spell?"

Harry looked away uncomfortably and fidgeted slightly.

"Yeah, mostly. I mean, she's really nice and I do learn interesting stuff in her class… but the lectures, well they're pretty boring," he said sheepishly.

Severus scowled at him in disgust.

"Indeed, yes. Very boring to listen to information which may prove vital to saving your corporeal existence! You are fortunate this method will not require you to engage your intellect overmuch, Potter. That would cause me to have far greater doubts as to the eventual success."

He shook his head in irritation and stifled a sigh of annoyance before continuing. It was imperative the boy understand what would be expected of him when the time came. He resumed his professorial lecturing tones and continued.

"You will feel the energy within you. You are not an infant, nor are you untrained. You know how shields work. When you feel that energy, you must focus every ounce of power you have and get him to attack you. Your gift for goading people into _desiring_ to curse you into oblivion should serve you well in this instance.

"Defend yourself or not as you like, but concentrate on rebounding his curse back upon him—not unlike the Protego Charm, but you must focus your _intent_ and aim the rebounded curse, as we have been practicing.

"If you do that and the potion is effective, his own curse will kill him."

"Dead-dead? Won't using my blood give him the same protection? Won't he just be a ghost again or whatever and come back?" Harry asked, anxiously.

"Your command of the spoken word is astounding, Potter," Severus said dryly. "Your mother's protection is specific to YOU in that sense. You will have to trust me the dichotomy works—you do not have nearly the skill in Potions to begin to fathom why it works.

"He will not be a '_ghost again or whatever_' because he does not have the ability to do the necessary rituals or consume the potions which allowed him to cling to life last time. By allowing Wormtail to return him to his body in the method they used, the body in which he now resides is not human enough to survive the rigors of such proceedings. He is, as the Muggles say, resting all his 'eggs in one basket.' The potion he believes me to be brewing is his last and only hope of immortality.

"If all of these conditions are met, then yes, he will be 'dead-dead', and you get to continue being the 'boy who lived' to annoy the survivors."

"And I don't have to be the one to kill him? I don't have to kill anyone?" Harry said again, as though afraid to hope the gnawing fear which had been eating at him for a year and a half now, could be alleviated so easily.

"No, Potter," Snape said with the slightest quirk of amusement in his voice, "you merely have to survive—properly."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Harry breathed, risking a small smile. Snape merely inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Harry sat swinging his legs from the edge of the desk, very silently ruminating over what he had been told.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked at last. "You're the one Voldemort's resting all his hopes on—it' why he's being so hard on you. He doesn't trust you very much right now; I know that from looking in his head. He's not sure he's going to take it, even after all your hard work. How are you going to get him to trust you enough to take it when it's all done?"

"Yes it is I," Severus said arrogantly, "He tried many other Potions Masters because he does not trust me. In the end, I am the only one with sufficient skill to do it. As to the rest, that is my business, not yours, Potter, and this is the end of the discussion."

In tribute to how much the boy had grown and matured in the last year and a half, Harry did not argue or try to ask further questions. Instead, he merely nodded, checked the map before hiding beneath his cloak again, and left.

"Thank you, Professor," he said softly just before opening the door and slipping out into the corridor. Surprisingly enough, it sounded as though he meant it.

Of course the final question—the crux of all—was the last one Harry had asked, and the one to which Severus himself had no answer.

* * *

Even Rowena could not have fully explained her feelings in regards to her relationship with Severus just now. The summer of fear for his life and the secret messages he left her in the form of 'sappy' music had served to wear away her resistance. She was still afraid of being hurt and her feelings for him still seemed mute and blunted compared to what they once had been. But she was no longer able or willing to deny they still existed, stronger for him than for any other person.

Like everyone else, nearly all her attention was focused on the war effort. As he had told her before the wedding—survive the war and worry about after, after. She just wanted to know he would BE here 'after'.

Most of her research time was spent in counter-spells for the Aurors. The Ministry had even gone so far as to 'officially' invite her to return to her old position with higher pay and heightened security. She had refused, not wanting to leave Hogwarts, but she agreed to assist in their counter-charm research from Hogwarts on a contractual basis.

Because of the added workload for everyone, she often went entire days sequestered away in her lab except for class and meals. Harry seldom visited her for Occlumency, though other Order members still found ways to meet with him to continue his intensive training without Caitlin Garvey's notice.

Albus, Filius, and Minerva were frequently seen around the perimeter of the school grounds, apparently increasing the wards further. Rowena was a bit hurt they didn't ask for her assistance, but she could hardly do everything and did have quite enough of her own work without adding additional wards to the heap.

In spite of this, Albus remained universally cheerful. He seemed to often find time to stop by and have tea with her during her free periods. From conversations with the other Professors, that was true for them as well. He occasionally asked for access to the Pensieve he had given her, adding wisps of thought to it, presumably to keep it as 'current' as possible. They would toss around theories related to the notes she had given him or simply just about mundane, day-to-day goings on at the school.

He insisted on playing chess with Severus at least once a week, found time to visit Remus and Tonks regularly outside of Order business, and even took Minerva McGonagall out to dinner for her birthday. Harry saw him every day, sometimes several times a day, and often it was for no other reason than to ask about how he was doing or share memories of his parents and Sirius.

In hindsight, Rowena thought she should have seen it coming.

* * *

Hogsmeade was nestled in a natural valley between several mountains. Hogwarts sat on a sort of enormous plateau of another and a long, narrow, gradually descending path between connected them. Part of the mountain protected the southern-most boundaries, while the enormous Forbidden Forest started at the western edge of this natural cliff wall before stretching out endlessly like a giant, cupped hand, holding Hogwarts' grounds in its palm. Its vast expanse began at the base of the southern mountains and curved westward before swooping back to the north. Between forest and mountain, more than three-quarters of the perimeter of the grounds were protected by natural geography before any spells were added.

The path to Hogsmeade and the main gates of Hogwarts were due north of the castle itself. The Founders themselves heavily magically warded the path and gates; magic which had been added to and expanded upon for centuries so that the gates, when closed, were more impregnable than the mountains.

There was a weakness though, in this natural and magical defense—a stretch of ground on the far side of the lake which was only lightly wooded, the mountain too unforgiving for the Forbidden Forrest to continue its encroachment on its eastern side. This stretch, the Hogwarts custodians often referred to as the "East Door". It was the most difficult stretch to maintain magically or physically. The harsh weather constantly battered at the high stone wall there, the physical attempt to complete the protective barrier which nature had denied. The wall routinely had to be repaired, re-Warded and even occasionally replaced altogether. Anyone with an inkling for tactics, who had been on the Hogwarts grounds, could tell this two hundred yard stretch of wall was the weak-spot in Hogwarts defenses. Or at least, her external defenses.

Voldemort, of course, had more than just an inkling for tactics. Or, perhaps, he simply had minions to whom he delegated that task.

Death Eaters attacked the school in the dead of night very early in October. More specifically, they attacked the wards surrounding the school at the East Door. It was apparently merely an attack to test the strength of the wards, a reconnaissance of sorts.

Harry woke before the attack began; his head hurting so badly he could hardly see. The pain was enough to prevent him from being able to clear his mind or access Voldemort's thoughts to try to figure out why he was having that much pain at that moment. He retched from the pain, but was not sick, and managed to find his invisibility cloak, though it was all he could do to activate the Marauder's Map. Thankfully his dorm-mates continued to be remarkably heavy sleepers and none of them awoke as he slipped out.

He did precisely what he had been instructed to do and made his way down to the dungeons as quickly as he could manage in the blinding pain. The door Severus had given him permission to use was guarded by a portrait of a very thin woman with her dark hair in a tight bun. She might have resembled McGonagall, except the woman in this portrait was far too haughty in appearance. Harry whispered to her from beneath his cloak.

"It's Harry Potter. Professor Snape said I could come here if it was an emergency. Would you please tell him I'm here?"

The woman sighed as though being extremely put-upon, but vanished from the frame. An instant later the door opened just enough to admit Harry and he slipped inside, pushing it shut behind him, since Snape couldn't see him yet.

"Is it safe to take off my cloak?" he whispered again.

"He can be taught," Severus said sardonically. "Yes, Potter. I would not have opened the door were it not."

Harry wasted no time being offended by the sarcasm and whipped off his cloak, only to retch heavily again.

"Something bad's happening," he gasped. "V..Voldemort's close by."

"Are you certain? What do you see?" Severus asked harshly.

"I can't see anything. Hurts too bad. Can't clear my mind," Harry said desperately. "It only gets this bad when he's close."

Severus turned to a tall cabinet behind him and opened it with a flick of his wand. Finding the potion he sought unerringly, he handed it to the suffering boy.

"I will forgive incaution this time in favor of expediency. Drink."

Harry drank. Almost immediately his pain eased. He sat in a nearby leather chair without waiting to be instructed, not bothering to notice that he was apparently inside the Professor's own quarters. His face became slack and his eyes unfocused as he sought to 'see' what was going on. Severus connected with him to 'ground' him at once and they both were able to witness the scene at hand.

_At least a dozen hooded and white-masked figures lurk in the shadows of the scant trees in the area as they cast their spells from the limited concealment. Harry doesn't know the spells being used to 'test' the wards. Voldemort's mind is hungry, a sadistic bloodlust tainting the perception of the surrounding area. Death Eaters occasionally sweep by his position to give reports, but he barely heeds them._

_He is HUNTING._

_Images of Harry, in distorted pictures of imagination, occasionally flash across the scene, to be pushed aside with savage irritation. Potter is not the goal today. He will be prey on a different day. Prey of a different nature needs to be removed before he can focus properly on Potter._

_Distorted, grotesque images of Albus Dumbledore flicker in and out, superimposing themselves over the visual reality of the scene. These images are sharper, clearer and have more intensity than the ones of Harry. They are the sick imaginings of a twisted mind as Voldemort sinks into fantasy of what he would like to do to the man if he could but get the old fool at his mercy._

_The only way to get at Potter is to get rid of Dumbledore, first._

_Potter's weakness is the 'love' of his 'friends'._

_Dumbledore has only one true 'love'. One 'baby'. One thing more precious to him above all else. If Voldemort can threaten Dumbledore's passion, then he can lure the fool into his trap._

_An image of Hogwarts, burning, falling, crumbling into a ruined, ugly mass of smoking rubble with hundreds of Dark Marks burning in the sky above it superimposes itself over all other images, real or imagined, and the sick, sadistic blood-lust spirals higher._

_And so the Death Eaters work, nervously coming back with reports on findings, and elapsed time since the attack began._

_"My Lord, we have been here nearly half an hour. Alarms are surely going off all over the school. I don't know why they haven't responded yet, but I don't like it, Lord. It smells of a trap. We should leave--or at least you, my Lord. You are too valuable to risk."_

_"Avery, the trap is not theirs but ours. We have simply been more successful than we anticipated in negating the alarms. Get back to work or suffer my displeasure!" Voldemort's voice is heard through the connection, high and cold, just as a gory image of eviscerating the man before him superimposes itself over the reality of his white-masked face._

Harry broke contact and jumped out of the chair, frantically racing for the door—which would not open. He tugged on it desperately, throwing all his weight backward in his panic.

"Professor! You've got to let me out of here! We've got to go help, sound the alarm—why aren't the alarms working?" He turned frantically to look at Severus, all his efforts to open the door ineffectual.

"Potter, calm down," Severus said, tapping a long, thin finger thoughtfully against the arm of the chair. "We will go to Albus at once. He will alert the others. I do not know why this attack is occurring just now, or why the alarms have not alerted the staff. But I do know if you set foot outside this castle now, all will be lost. You MUST stay inside. Is that clear?"

Only when Harry agreed and was once again hidden under his cloak, did Severus approach the door.

"Potter, if I find out you have disobeyed me on this and we both live to get back to this school, you will wish you HADN'T—do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Please hurry!" came Harry's disembodied voice. Snape seemed to be satisfied with this and opened the door wider than actually necessary so that Potter could slip out after him.

His long strides took him quickly to the Headmaster's office. He was surprised to find Minerva, Filius and Hagrid already inside—but no Albus. Minerva was sitting near the fire, a cup held tightly in her hands; Filius was pacing near a window; and Hagrid was trying to tempt Fawkes with a bit of biscuit. As soon as the door closed behind him, Harry took off his invisibility cloak.

"Apparently you are aware of the guests at our East Door, then," Severus said dryly. "I assume since we are all sitting here sedately having tea, this is some part of the Master Plan?"

Minerva's stricken glance as she looked at him spoke volumes and his gut clenched painfully. He glanced back at Fawkes sitting sedately on his perch and forced himself to relax. Fawkes would not be there if Albus was in danger.

"Where is the Headmaster?" he asked in commanding tones.

"Gone," sobbed Hagrid, dropping the uneaten biscuit and burying his face in his huge hands. "Gone to face them ruddy Death Eaters alone! He wouldn' let us come with him."

Severus paled and cast his piercing gaze at each in turn, trying to determine the truth of it. Minerva stared, pale and silent, into her teacup, and Severus was reminded strongly of how Becky Lupin had appeared when everyone believed the werewolf to be dying.

"Wouldn't LET you?" Severus asked incredulously. "How many times have you each, in your turn, ignored Albus' directives? _NOW_ you choose to follow his orders? Foolish orders at that? Has this entire castle become nothing but a bloody bunch of Gryffindor fools, each bent upon dying as heroically as possible? Can none of you manage to think for yourself? If you won't go after him, I will. Subterfuge be damned!"

He then strode angrily back to the office door and discovered it would not open. Hagrid sobbed loudly while Minerva made a small noise in her throat and Filius blew his nose.

Several minutes of ineffectual wand work later, Severus was forced to give up his attempt to break out of the office. The portraits of the prior Headmasters were empty and presumably warded.

"How long have you been in here?" he asked dangerously. It was Filius who found his voice enough to answer.

"Minerva was here when I arrived. She said she just dropped in to see if anything needed doing before she went to bed—it was the end of her shift of night duty. I couldn't sleep so I went to the kitchens for a cup of cocoa. I always check the wards as a matter of course when I'm up and I noticed some minor tampering going on at the East Door. I didn't know then why the alarms weren't sounding." He shook his head sadly. "I'm fairly certain Albus used a local canceling charm himself. We talked about them just last week. It never occurred to me to wonder why he was curious about them."

He sighed and returned to his original explanation.

"I thought to alert Albus and came here to find Minerva already here. She tried to stop the door from closing behind me, but it seems to have a mind of its own. I got here about twenty minutes ago.

"Hagrid came in to alert Albus when Fang started barking and carrying on. Hagrid saw the glow of spell-work across the lake and we even managed to shout for him not to let the door shut behind him—but it was no use. The barrier Albus used forced him inside and the door shut. There was no use to warn you—once you opened the door there was no way to prevent you being drawn in, too. The Order communication keys don't work in here, either. I think Albus has been planning this for some time."

"This _what_, precisely?" Severus asked angrily, now testing the seal of the window.

Minerva leaned forward and tapped the edge of Albus' Pensieve, which Severus had not noticed until now, sitting sedately on the Headmaster's desk.

Albus' smiling face appeared up out of the milky surface, and floated slightly above it, not unlike a Muggle hologram.

"My dear, beloved friends, I am so very sorry to have to do this. I know each of you would follow me to the ends of the earth, to death and beyond, and I appreciate it more than you know. Perhaps more than I ever adequately told you.

"This time, you may not follow me, and because I fear you would try to do so in spite of my injunctions to the contrary, I have made certain that you cannot. There is no other way to do what must be done and only I can do it.

"You are my family in my heart as truly as if you were by blood. Be strong and do not give up hope, no matter how dark things might appear. I love you.

"It is time for my next Grand Adventure. Remember I am with you always."

"NOOOO!" Harry roared suddenly, and he ran to the door, attacking it as ineffectually as he had attacked Snape's door earlier. Severus stared at the ghostly image of the man who was the closest thing to a father he had ever known, shocked and speechless. Hagrid desisted his caterwauling in order to attempt to comfort Harry in his distress, while Filius continued to pace, shaking his head sadly. Minerva blinked rapidly and daubed at her eyes.

"POTTER, focus!" Severus voice broke through the boy's ranting like a whip-crack. Harry stopped, his hand still gripping the doorknob tightly. His shoulders heaved with the rapid breathing of his exertion, but he stopped.

"What can we do?" he said in a small, frightened voice. Severus was forced to acknowledge that if Dumbledore was really bent on doing what he seemed to be doing, Potter was about to lose the closest thing to a father he had ever known as well.

"Quite possibly nothing," Severus said bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "But I am unwilling to forego the attempt, however slight the chance for success. Sit down and _focus_. I doubt we have much time."

The other three fell silent; though that might have been more from astonishment at how readily Harry followed Severus' directions. In an instant, he was sitting in one of Albus' favorite squashy chairs. Already his breathing was calmer and his eyes were becoming unfocused.

"Calm your emotions first, Potter," Severus said sharply, though it appeared the boy was already 'gone'; so it was impossible to know if he had followed the directive. Severus quickly perched on the end of the coffee table in front of him and withdrew his wand. He rarely used his wand in these sorts of sessions, where he merely observed. But this time, he hoped to be able to act.

_An inhuman tongue scents the air, tasting the acrid scent of failed spells. They have been here nearly an hour. Many spells have failed, but others are gradually breaking through. A small hole is visible in the stone wall, and now efforts are focused on making it larger, perhaps to send Nagini through if the Hated One does not arrive soon to defend his beloved school._

Severus noted with mild alarm that the 'feel' of the Dark Lord's hatred and lust for vengeance was stronger than he had yet experienced through this awkward conduit of image and emotion. It was as though it was getting additional strength from another source—Potter.

Normally, when they did this, Severus was aware of Potter's separate cognitive identity; his unique presence was subdued and hidden, but there. This time, that which was Harry Potter—a raging adolescent desire for vengeance on someone who had caused him so much pain—blended almost seamlessly with that which was the Dark Lord.

Potter had not removed himself from his own emotion before making the connection.

For now, Severus did nothing but continue to observe, though he was aware of the danger. The hatred was so savage, so corrupt, and so utterly inhuman, he did not believe there was anything he could do to alter the outcome. So far, his subtle manipulations of the Dark Lord's thoughts had simply been to draw notice to ideas already present in the hidden recesses of the sick mind. He was insane enough to nearly always bore quickly of any 'games' set before him. Severus had merely gently 'pushed' that boredom closer to the surface, testing his ability to do so without notice. Here, with the Dark Lord facing someone whom he hated so obsessively, there were no other milder emotions to bring to the fore. Any manipulation he did would be noticed at once.

He now had to concern himself with Potter's sanity instead.

The thing which made the Dark Lord's hatred so _wrong,_ compared to the normal human version of that very violent emotion, was the _pleasure_ he derived from feeling it. It was almost the exact, polar opposite to the wild angst-ridden passion of an adolescent experiencing his first 'love'. The Dark Lord's hatred had an edge of euphoria and ecstasy—the taint of addiction to the Dark Magic.

_THERE! Through the tiny hole in the wall a silvery wisp is suddenly visible. Sensation so ecstatic as to surpass pleasures of the flesh floods through him as he now can TASTE the scent of his prey on his tongue._

_Dumbledore._

_Alone._

_Delicious._

"_Leave me," the high, cold voice hisses, blinded by arrogance and ecstasy so fierce it is almost a form of delirium._

"_But Master!" a voice reaches through the haze. A paper-white, spidery hand with a long, black wand rises into the field of vision._

"_Crucio!"_

_Screams fill the air as the addictive wash of Dark Magic heightens the intensity of the pleasure, as does the taste of sweat and pain and fear in the air. The high, cold voice utters a soft moan of ecstasy which is lost in the midst of the shrieks._

"_Leave me, NOW," the voice says again, and no other voices utter protest._

Severus' alarm increased when he could not find Potter's own innate disgust at what was occurring. He could not serve as a grounding anchor to that which did not seem to exist. Potter was currently sharing the Dark Lord's impressions and sensations far too intimately, as though they were his own rather than just being an impartial observer.

Even for Severus the seduction of the addictive force was renewing old promises of what he could have, what he could do and become if only he would embrace it. He knew the falseness of those promises from experience—experience Potter did not have. If Potter felt the power behind the Avada Kedavra—what use would it be to destroy one Dark Lord only to create a new one?

He could not help Albus. The sure knowledge caused him as much pain as the decision to sever the Bond with Rowena did months before. But he was used to being practical and ignoring his own pain. If Potter succumbed to this Madness, everything would be lost.

He could already feel the sickeningly sweet lure, the spiraling vortex which was like the most wretched, sick, twisted parody of the sexual tension that leads to release. The Dark Lord was drawing in his power, focusing his will, feeding his hatred.

In a moment it would be too late.

"Potter!" Severus stood up and shouted the boy's name, shaking him by the shoulders. When the connection did not seem to 'break' at once, he slapped him soundly across the face. Harry fell sideways out of his chair and his glasses flew off his face to skid across the floor from the blow. He managed to pull himself up to his knees, pale, sweating and trembling, his eyes unfocused now because of the loss of his glasses rather than any connection to Voldemort.

Minerva had more experience with the boy in this condition than Severus had and managed to provide a rubbish bin just before he vomited spectacularly into it. He then began to sob, brokenly, between fresh heaves.

Severus' worst fear was actually allayed by the boy's obvious acute distress. He had not been too late. He had gotten him 'out' in time.

Relief was short-lived when Potter screamed in agony, clutching his scar and falling to the ground to writhe as though someone were holding him under the Cruciatus Curse. The high, clear note of Phoenix song was added to the screams, though this was a song of grief and sorrow. All this was overshadowed further by an almost blinding, sunshine-bright flash of vivid red-gold light which entirely encompassed the castle to instantly bathe every surface and every occupant in the brilliance.

The darkness seemed darker and the silence quieter in the aftermath. Potter's pained, shuddering sobs were echoed by sorrowful sounds from Fawkes. None of them had any doubt of what had just happened.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was gone.


	50. Chapter 50: Coping

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

Please see my livejournal, I am weasleyfan, for more specific information in regards to this story.

* * *

Chapter 50: Coping

* * *

"What happened?" Rowena asked frantically as she barged into Dumbledore's office, dressed in rose colored satin pajamas and a flowery dressing gown, her braid sleep-mussed. She stopped and stood stock-still as she looked at the stricken faces of the occupants.

Severus looked as cold and implacable as though carved from finest marble. Minerva was ignoring tears running freely down her face as she tried to comfort Harry who was curled into a ball, sitting on the floor, hiding his face in the circle of his arms wrapped around his knees, sobbing. Hagrid was in no better state, leaning heavily against a delicate bookshelf which appeared to be bowing under his weight, also sobbing unrestrainedly. Filius merely looked too sad for words.

Rowena had been awakened suddenly by an odd sensation, not unlike the pain of the severed Bond at its worst. The flash of light which the others saw clearly was so instantaneous her sleeping mind had not registered it, nor would it have been likely to wake her in and of itself. Indeed, she had seen no one else traversing the corridors when she rushed to Severus' quarters and then here to Albus' office when she found them empty.

The sudden pain had actually worried her that something had happened to Severus. She would have been weak-kneed in relief to see him sitting there so calmly, if she hadn't recognized his icy demeanor as that which concealed his deepest pain.

Only when her eyes caught sight of the Phoenix, hiding his head under his wing and already molting a few vivid feathers from his tail, did she begin to piece things together.

Albus had created their original Bond; it would make sense there would be some sensation involved if something happened to him, even though he was not part of the connection. It was perhaps a leap of reasoning which had very little foundation, but when she combined that bit of information with the clear emotional distress of the diverse group of individuals in Albus' office, she really thought there was no other logical explanation.

"Where is Albus?" she asked fearfully.

"Gone!" wailed Hagrid in the same tone he had used to answer Severus nearly half an hour before. "Gone! He wen' out there an' fought You-Know-Who alone, an' now he's GONE!"

Rowena paled and stared at him in open-mouthed shock, looking frantically from one individual to the next, trying to find someone to deny the ridiculous claim.

The only sound in the room was a sudden hiss of pain as Severus clutched his left forearm before standing to stride briskly out of the room.

"There is a breach in the East Door. I suggest someone repair it with all due alacrity, or Albus' sacrifice is for naught," he said through gritted teeth. He did not even spare a glance for Rowena as he walked right past her and out into the dead of night.

She wanted to try to stop him, but he was gone before she had the chance. It was Albus' protection Severus always said spared him from expected participation in some of the 'darker' activities when he was summoned. If Albus really was gone, what would happen to him?

Without Albus, what would happen to any of them? How could they hope to win?

She sunk into a vacant chair near Harry and Minerva and added her hopeless, frightened tears to theirs.

* * *

The location was the Malfoy estate, surprisingly enough, and there was clearly a celebration going on within. Severus adjusted his Mask more comfortably over his face, squared his shoulders, and entered through the secret door Lucius arranged solely for the Faithful.

It was no great challenge to find the nexus of the party—the ballroom in which Severus had killed a woman nearly a year before. The Dark Lord was seated in a high, throne-like chair he always conjured for himself regardless of where he held court. It was exceedingly tall, so even Macnair, the tallest among their number, had to look up at him. It also allowed him to be seated when he wished—or needed to—in order to conceal the hated weakness of his physical body.

Severus ignored all the other masked revelers and approached the chair directly. Bending gracefully to one knee before it, he brought the hem of the Dark Lord's robes to his lips.

"Master, you have achieved a great victory tonight. The entire Wizarding World will be forced to pay you homage," he said calmly.

Cold laughter sounded above him, but he was not yet given leave to rise, so remained in the half-kneel on the hard floor.

"Yes, everyone, everywhere," Voldemort all but shrieked, triumphantly. "Rise and advise me. I considered pressing my advantage after savoring the Fool's death. But something was not right, Severus. I would like you to advise me."

Severus rose fluidly and stood in attentive silence, as though clinging to his Master's every word.

"Dumbledore and I have often dueled. He was a worthy opponent. Only lucky chance has kept him alive this long, but always it was an exciting battle. Tonight, he came to me like a sacrificial lamb. Did you know we were attacking the school?"

"No, my Lord," Severus answered, careful to maintain eye contact with the inhuman red eyes of his 'Master'. "There were no alarms. As you know, all Professors' quarters are connected to the alarm wards of the school in such a way that if any attack occurs, the alarm sounds throughout all areas which are exclusive to teachers and staff. The student areas are not connected to avoid 'frightening' the children. I am often awakened to false alarms caused by creatures in the forest or students out of bounds.

"However, tonight there was no alarm at all. Initially, I thought my rooms had been deliberately excluded from the newest round of upgrades; his trust in me has been wavering, as I have informed you. I was sleeping and did not know of the attack until a strange flash of light woke me."

"Yes!" Voldemort exclaimed, though his voice was more troubled than triumphant. "What was that light? The Fool approached me and blithered away about the strength of love until I thought perhaps his plan was to kill me from the sheer boredom of his drivel.

"I told him to draw his wand and fight, so I could kill him and return to the task of demolishing his beloved school. He said, 'Hogwarts will be standing long after you are gone because it is protected by the strength of love'.

"When I leveled my wand at him, he did _nothing_, Severus. _NOTHING_. He merely smiled at me until I could no longer bear the sight of his face and I killed him."

Voldemort fell silent and toyed with his wand, tapping it idly against his other hand. Severus stood rigidly, allowing no reaction, expectantly waiting for further information or questioning.

"He was quite mad, my Lord," Severus said at last when nothing more seemed forthcoming. "Perhaps he had finally gone round the twist?"

Voldemort made a small sound which from a human might have been a chuckle. From him it was just an unusually rough hiss.

"Perhaps, Severus. But there was no body. The instant my curse hit him, there was that explosion of light—it looked as if the sun had fallen out of the sky right onto that school. For a moment I was overjoyed, as I thought the Imbecile had tied the existence of Hogwarts to his own existence so by killing him, I had destroyed the school as well. But the light was gone in an instant and when my eyes could see properly again, the school suffered no visible damage and there was no body."

With this, an abnormally flat, thin tongue snaked out of the lipless mouth, snake-like, tasting the air.

"I couldn't even taste him there anymore, or the charred remains of his worthless flesh.

"If you saw the light, even in the bowels of your dungeons, then it worries me even more. What happened?"

"I do not know, my Lord. If you wish it, I will endeavor to find out," he said, managing to put in just a hint of reluctance into his tone, as though he was dreading a return to the castle.

"Very well, Severus. I am not unaware of your trials within the school. I need you there a while longer. I have not yet defeated Potter and without your presence there I might not learn the truth of Dumbledore's final actions. Perhaps he isn't really dead at all, but used some form of cheap trickery to conceal his flight? No doubt he could feel my awesome power and was becoming afraid of me…"

"A very viable theory, my Lord. I, too, would question the absence of a corpse."

Voldemort waved him away as though he was an annoying insect, apparently bored of the conversation.

"Yes, yes. I don't desire platitudes, but answers. I will summon you in a few days' time. Make certain you have those answers."

Severus bowed again and made to move away, but was called back by his final words.

"Oh, and Severus, my dear boy," the high voice sneered in cruel mockery of Albus' frequent appellation for him, "I think I have settled on the proof of your loyalty I will require—but we will discuss that at our next chat. Off with you now."

Severus turned on his heel and left, icy dread warring with abject grief in the painful, gaping hollow that should have housed his heart.

* * *

The fathomless pitch-black sky seemed to swallow up even the memory of light as he made his way up the path from the gate. The darkness of the night was only matched by the bleak emptiness of his soul; his strides had less of his usual easy grace and more of a doleful trudge as his worries weighed heavily upon him.

"_It is always darkest before the dawn, my boy."_

He couldn't tell if this was his fatigued mind playing tricks on him, or a memory surfacing just when he needed it most, but the words were so crisp and clear in his head he almost could see the azure twinkle in the beloved old face.

The grief threatened to consume him. The self-deception he had believed for nearly 17 years was crumbling all around him. The myth of his strength, his fortitude was an illusion, entirely sustained by the presence of the man who had been father, mentor, brother and friend in one. He had deceived himself as to how heavily he relied on Albus. What a fitting irony, that. He had spent the last six plus years harping on how much Potter relied on Albus to pull his arse out of self-inflicted fires--only to now realize how much he had relied on the man for the very same thing.

Without Albus, it was far more likely the Dark Lord would eventually decide his presence at Hogwarts was no longer needed. The thought that he might be ripped from this last bastion of sanity to reside in the depths of Hell itself was untenable.

Without Albus, it was far more likely some bureaucrat in the Ministry would decide his crimes outweighed his 'usefulness' after all. They might very well come and snatch him up to rot in Azkaban without even the dubious promise of the just reward of a Dementor's Kiss, since they were no longer working for the Ministry.

Without Albus, there was no one, in the Order or out, with whom he could speak freely. Granted, he rarely took advantage of that aspect of the relationship, but it had been a comfort to know it was THERE. Even Rowena could not truly be trusted to be an outlet when his sense of hopelessness needed venting. Not that he feared she would ever betray him, but any new knowledge she attained would place her at even greater risk.

Without Albus, there was no one to continually assure him—with something akin to 'proof' as he had done with his simplistic symbolism of the black and white boxes—that he, Severus, was not as vile and despicable as he knew he was. Rowena's assurance of the same thing was far too easy to brush off as her own innate naivete.

Without Albus, his true 'status' struck home more savagely than it had ever done before. He had never even given the matter a thought until now. First, because he was too far lost to Darkness to care and, later, because he had Albus, so he had not felt the truth of it. Indeed, when Albus had been there, it hadn't been true—because Albus was there.

Without Albus, he was an orphan.

* * *

It was near the dawn at present, being nearly five in the morning. He entered his chambers silently and went to his private potion cabinet. There was no point in sleep now—he would merely be more miserable and out of sorts than if he went with no sleep at all and used potions to maintain himself. He would require more sleep for it later, but as he could now be fairly certain not to be called for at least two days, that seemed a viable option.

He doubted he would sleep well without the assistance of total bodily exhaustion at any rate.

This whole plan would have been effective, as indeed it was one he had utilized often, if not for one small glitch.

Rowena Lupin was in his chambers.

She was sitting in his chair, at his desk, apparently waiting for his return. He hadn't seen her until he lit the candles in the area to find the endurance potions he would need for the day. But there she was.

He was instantly angry! He had no energy to be dealing with whatever new crisis likely drove her here at this hour! He certainly did not want to comfort her in her grief over Albus—(_she had not known or liked him nearly as well as Severus had, so how dare she pretend to grieve for him at all_)—when he was entirely unprepared to face his own grief at this moment.

He did not recognize his instinctive response to this loss—the response which had driven him to poor choices all those years ago. Anger. Rage. It was how he dealt with his sister's death, his mother's, and now was on the verge of doing the same to deal with Albus'. He probably would have done, if not for her.

She didn't say anything, so he was unable to snarl the appropriate level of scathing sarcasm to whatever platitudes she wanted to spew at him. She merely stood up from the chair and took the two steps forward necessary to close most of the distance between them. She gazed up at him, her large doe eyes full of compassion and concern, silently offering her presence and her comfort.

A word. All it would require is a single word and he could easily destroy months of hard-earned, barely rebuilt and fragile trust. He could go back to his life, his existence as it was before she entered it, and live what remaining time he had in relative solitude.

He stood silently for long, long minutes, glaring at her savagely. She didn't quail under his gaze—but she made no further overtures, either. She was here, of her own free will. It was up to him to accept or reject her.

His world was crashing down about him. He had always known it would. He deserved nothing more. With Albus gone, his miniscule hope for the future was gone as well. If the Dark Lord didn't kill him, the Ministry would see to it he was incarcerated or worse. There was nothing… _NOTHING_ that he could offer her.

He also had no more strength left, at the moment at least, to resist the offered and desperately needed comfort. He did not trust his voice; his throat was far too tightly constricted in grief, but he managed to open his arms slightly and shrug half-heartedly. It was the best he could manage in his miserable state, but it was enough. She stepped into them, rose up on her toes, and wrapped her arms around neck and shoulder, to hug him tightly, fiercely, as though if she could squeeze hard enough, she might manage to hold the crumbling remains of his spirit together.

Instinctively his body relaxed into her embrace, even if his mind still raged inside. His arms enveloped her, his face turned to nestle into her hair, the scent of her soothing some remote, subconscious part of his wounded soul.

He was lost and alone in a dangerous vortex of torment and deception. His only constant, unchanging feature in the ravaged landscape of his life had now been ripped from him, forever gone.

He clung tighter to the warm comfort in his arms, burying his face further into her hair, unaware of anything but the savage, raging pain inside of him.

Severus Snape wept.

* * *

He gripped her so tightly her feet nearly came up off the floor, her toes just touching the ground. He held her for so long, she feared he would fatigue himself further simply from the exertion.

She didn't try to 'hush' him as people often do when soothing grief. First of all, there was no sound, even if she could tell by the shaking of his body and the unevenness of his breathing, he was crying. Besides, she wouldn't embarrass him by acknowledging the tears, no matter that it was a normal human reaction to something so tragic as that which he had suffered tonight, on top of a lifetime of other tragedies. Severus Snape was not a man to willingly allow himself to be 'human'. Reminding him he was, regardless of all his valiant efforts to the contrary, would not help him.

Instead she just stood there and held him, gently stroking her hand through his hair or against his back, silently assuring him of her presence.

Slowly, she became aware of the lanterns in his rooms gradually lighting. He had explained this to her before—being in the windowless dungeons he had conceded it was easier to wake and keep his body's 'internal clock' oriented if he had some indication of the time of day. The lamps and candles would gradually increase their flames and brightness to mimic the slow approach of dawn.

And he hadn't slept!

"Severus," she said softly. She had no idea how long they had been standing there, an hour at least. His body relaxed slightly and his breathing began to regulate, but still he said nothing and did not move for long minutes.

"Severus," she whispered again. He released her suddenly, but just gently enough she didn't stumble backward when her feet made firm contact with the floor again.

"Go, before Garvey learns you were here," he said brusquely, turning away from her and back to his potions cabinet as though there had been no interruption. His voice was hoarse, but controlled. "No doubt Minerva will want everyone at breakfast as usual."

"You need to sleep!" She said, stepping around and putting a hand on the cupboard door before he opened it.

"Lupin," he said with weary annoyance, "I have no time to argue with you and no energy to point out the obvious. I have no idea what Minerva will tell the Ministry, but there is going to be an enormous amount of chaos over this. There is no time for unnecessary luxuries like 'sleep'. Get out of my way."

Rowena, however, merely gazed at him with her enormous brown eyes; worry and compassion still all over her face, while one hand pulled a necklace out of the neck of her robes.

No, not a necklace, a time-turner.

She gave him a small, sad smile and held it up.

"The advantage of having a sister-in-law who's an Auror. I went to Number 12 tonight after you left to let them know what happened and she lent this to me." She shrugged. "We can't change what happened, but we at least don't have to face the day on no sleep on top of everything else."

"You went to Grimmauld Place after what I have told you about floo travel?" He asked angrily.

"Yes, but I Apparated," she said with a shrug.

"Ah, brilliant," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Because it is so much safer to leave the bloody wards with Death Eaters about and Apparate away. I thought you had a drop of sense!"

"More than a drop, thank you," she said, laying a hand on his chest as though to placate him. "Remus came to see me after we visited Lizzy's baby and I told him about your worries over the floo network. I wanted to be able to see Katrina. I thought to ask Albus to make me a Portkey, but I never had time."

Her voice broke and she blinked back tears, reminded afresh that now there never would be time to ask.

"Remus showed me a bend in the tunnel under the Whomping Willow where it leaves the Anti-Apparition wards for about eight feet. So I went in there and Apparated."

She jumped and flinched as his fist hit the cupboard door behind her.

"Trust that bloody werewolf to know of a weakness in the defenses and not tell anyone about it!" he snarled.

"Severus," she said gently, once again stroking her hand across his chest still trying to soothe him. "He thought it would be a good idea to have at least one place accessible from the grounds which was safe for Apparition. Albus knew about it."

"Oh, that is soooo reassuring," he said sarcastically, his anger getting the better of him. "We all know that Albus was a great one for being safety conscious in all things! Like making that blasted tunnel to begin with! I suppose neither he nor your brother thought to consider that since Harry bloody Potter knows of the thing, it is very possible for the Dark Lord to know of it as well?

"Not to mention your brother's dear friend and fellow Marauder, Pettigrew?"

"Okay, I've had enough of this," she said, matching his anger with exasperation..

"The path to the Shack has always been outside the Anti-Apparition wards once it left the school grounds. It was the new wards we installed last year that protected the whole length of it, except for that small section. Pettigrew has no way of knowing any portion of the path is unprotected. He hasn't been able to get inside since You-Know-Who returned, Albus has seen to that. And he hasn't the skill in mathematics or the memory or sense enough to correlate the path with above-ground geography. Don't you think if Pettigrew knew of it, someone would have used it by now?

"I knew you hadn't slept, and I took what I believed to be adequate safety measures to find a way to help you."

Her voice broke again, and her expression of irritation crumbled to one of sorrow.

"It's not much, but I wanted to do _something_. The others all took Dreamless Sleep potions from Poppy shortly after you left. You're exhausted. You're angry. You're hurting. Today is going to be hell for you. I just didn't want you to have to face that with no sleep. If I could do anything about it, you wouldn't have to face it at all, or at least not alone.

"This," she held up the time-turner again, "is the only thing I can do. I've been waiting for you since I got back from Number 12. I'm going to use the bloody thing to get some sleep whether you do or not. I wanted to do something for you.

"Let me be here for you, Severus. Let me be with you. Please?"

He looked at the hourglass dangling from the chain and back into her earnest face. Perhaps it was his emotional, physical and intellectual exhaustion all working against him, but the decision was not difficult to make. He looked at the clock on his desk; it was nearly seven. They were expected at breakfast by eight-thirty. He sighed, ran a tired hand through his hair and nodded.

"Very well, Lupin," he said gazing down at her. "We will be able to sleep in the second bedroom I had Albus add here last year."

He pointed at the door in question and shrugged at her inquiring look.

"When I applied for Katrina's adoption, I had to demonstrate I could provide lodgings for her. It's never been used; though I have no doubt Joseph has kept it immaculate. I can't recall the last time I so much as opened the door. There will be no danger of running into ourselves so long as we don't return here before seven."

He waved his wand to open the door, and revealed a room which was utterly unadorned except for the sconces on the walls, the enormous Hogwarts-issue four-poster bed, and a small nightstand to one side of it. The bed was made with soft flannel sheets and thick, warm blankets. Joseph clearly thought his Master deserved some luxury, even if the room was never used.

She followed him inside and shut the door, then moved closer to him so she could put the chain of the Time-Turner around both of them before activating it. When the spinning sensation stopped, Severus set an Alarm Charm to awaken them at seven, and moved to the bed. He was too weary to care that he hadn't thought to retrieve a nightshirt and merely kicked off his boots and removed his outer-robe so that he was in his shirt and trousers. Rowena was still in her satin pajamas of before—presumably she had gone to Grimmauld Place and back dressed as such. She slipped out of the flowery dressing gown and slid into bed, beckoning him silently with her arms outstretched.

As fatigued as he was, he truly did not think he would be able to sleep. His mind was whirling chaotically with worry and strain over the night's proceedings; his heart heavy with grief of loss. However, he got into bed and she immediately sidled up next to him, ducking under one arm to lay her head on his chest and throw an arm and leg over him as they had often slept when they were married.

Without Albus, who would officiate if he lived to marry her again?

He chuffed in annoyance and made deft work of releasing her hair from the ubiquitous braid so he could twine his hand in the soft tresses properly. He forced his mind to cease its painful prodding of the 'Without Albus…' train of thought and instead focused on the comfort she was offering so freely. Her hand on his chest stroked soothing patterns across the tense muscles and down his arm.

In shorter time than he would have imagined, or even believed possible, he was asleep. Miraculously, his dreams were untroubled.

* * *

As there was no body and no 'official' witness to the event, it was difficult to decide how to inform the Wizarding World of Albus' death.

They needn't have worried.

Sometime in the last hours before dawn, after the unofficial witnesses had taken dreamless sleep potions (or were buried in the depths of the dungeon, arguing) Death Eaters, or at least one Death Eater, returned to the scene of the attack to shoot the Dark Mark triumphantly in the sky. The image was photographed by the desperate, frightened Paparazzi and graced the front page of The Prophet. This was accompanied by a quote from an 'anonymous source' who insisted Albus Dumbledore was dead.

If the report alone wasn't enough to confirm the rumors, the absolute chaos which ensued seemed to give weight to the story. Dozens of people disappeared that morning on their way to work, leaving their homes by floo but never arriving at their destination. The Dark Mark, normally only left clandestinely in the dead of night, shone garishly amidst the slate gray clouds of British autumn weather in the middle of the day as savage but precise hit-and-run type attacks occurred all over the country. Ministry officials, Magical Law Enforcement and Aurors all scrambled to keep up with the reports and emergency calls.

Gringotts was taken—sort of. The Goblins, sensing interruption in commerce and possible damage to their profit margins, utterly abandoned the upper levels of the building—and sealed off the tunnels leading to the vaults. They took all ledgers and documentation with them, wherever it was they went, and left nothing at all of value in the enormous, cavernous bank floor except a few old balance scales and the odd quill and ink. The Death Eaters apparently could not break through to get at the treasures sealed inside the mysterious tunnels—but then neither could the owners of said treasures.

Families who had believed themselves to be in the midst of war had prepared for such a step at the urging of Albus and his supporters and had reserves of cash, food and necessities to get them through a brief interruption of banking business. Wealthy families and supporters of Voldemort were likewise insulated against the economic catastrophe.

However, there were many of those 'in between' who hoped to let the war wage around them without affecting them, or who perhaps preferred to deny that war was occurring. They had made no provisions for such an event. These families flocked to the Ministry and St Mungo's in droves, standing in interminable lines for basic necessities, which were both insufficient in quantity and substandard in quality.

Hogwarts made some attempt to function normally. Most of the older student populace now made a habit of getting The Prophet, so it was impossible to conceal the news of Albus' death from them, nor did they try and make it seem as an unsubstantiated rumor. Minerva cancelled classes for one day only and brought in the counselors Albus had hired last year, as well as any parents who wished to come. Some parents took their children and went home. Some left the country; others left Europe altogether.

Even the likes of the Malfoys, Crabbes, Notts, and Goyles had the audacity to come to the school, ostensibly to offer condolences and assistance. The Slytherin students made reasonable show of grieving along with the rest of the student body and Severus was pleasantly surprised to find there were a good number of those whose grief was real. He hated the prejudice against his House. He hated it more because it so often proved to be founded. These grieving students seemed, in some small way, to vindicate him.

The school governors were in shock as well, unsure what to do. For the interim, they made Minerva the Headmistress of the school and Filius the Deputy Head. Both of them visited Severus on separate occasions to offer their support and condolences, even though they were grieving as deeply as he was. In hindsight, they said, Albus had hinted to them of what he was intending. Their grief was sharper at not having caught the subtle clues in time to stop him, but they were determined to carry out what they now knew to be his last wishes.

Each of them, separately, informed Severus that Albus had indicated he was most worried about the two people he considered his 'adopted' children, even more than he did of all the students who passed through Hogwarts.

Himself, Severus, and Harry Bloody Potter. If he hadn't been in such despair, he might have found ironic amusement in the thought that at least in Albus' eyes, he was 'brother' to the Boy Who Lived to Torment him. Whether intentional or not, that seemed to be the focus—or at least the consequential side-effect—of Potter's existence at Hogwarts. Severus had to be honest enough to acknowledge Potter was suffering over this loss as well. He was pale and sickly and unfocused in any of his work in or out of class.

Even gaudy Garvey managed to be subdued and respectful, though her clingy black robes of 'mourning' were barely less scanty than her 'normal' attire.

But whether it was in the school, in Hogsmeade, in London, in Staff Meetings or among the Death Eaters, one question flew about the most and seemed the most unanswerable.

What had he done? Albus Dumbledore, the eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts, what had he done? Why was there no body? Why was his Phoenix still molting mournfully on his perch in the Head's office rather than following Albus into death as the loyal creatures were known to do? Fawkes' presence gave hope to the few who were not 'witnesses' that Dumbledore was still alive and just in hiding. No one who had seen the obviously mourning bird could cling to that hope. However, neither could they explain why he was still at his perch in the Headmaster's office.

Surprisingly, to Severus at least, part of the answer came from Rowena. He had not had time to see her privately at all since the illicitly stolen hours on the night of Albus' death. She was morose and quiet at the numerous, brief staff meetings.

On the third day after the occurrence, he left as soon as his last class was over. He was reasonably certain he would be summoned again soon, likely this evening, and wanted to visit Katrina before that happened. His growing sense of despair made him more certain, each time he answered a call, that this would be his last.

Rowena was already there, apparently heedless of his irritation over the 'gap' in the Anti-Apparition defenses. He scowled at her darkly, but the frown could not last in the face of Katrina's exuberant greeting. The werewolf and Auror did not seem to be home, so he felt at leisure to linger with her and even read to her before tucking her in bed. Rowena stayed as well; so it was a bittersweet taste of the 'happy family' they might have been if things had been different.

When Katrina was sleeping though, Rowena sat with him in the drawing room, pouring tea and regarding him with the worried expression which had not left her delicate face these last few days.

"You have to go there tonight," she said. It was not a question.

"Likely. I am expecting a summons. If not tonight, soon."

"What does he want now?" she asked, in exasperation, as though the Dark Lord was a spoiled child who could somehow be placated by giving him whatever thing he whinged for the loudest.

"Proof of my loyalty, as always," he said with a casual shrug. "That and to know what it was Albus did upon his death. It disconcerted him enough he did not press the attack that night. Very few things cause the Dark Lord to be worried—he is too insane to recognize the need for caution as often as not. Albus always managed to do it."

"And if you don't tell him what Albus did…" she prodded.

"Rowena, this is not something I'm willing to discuss with you," he said warningly. "You know far more than is safe already."

"Maybe," she said, mimicking his shrug. "But I also think I know what Albus did. Not exactly, but I have an idea."

He shifted slightly in his chair, his glittering black eyes boring into her, but she avoided his gaze, nervously toying with a loose button in the upholstery of the arm of her chair.

"I'll tell you, of course—as much as I know. But before I do, I want you to know right now, I WON'T tell you HOW I think he did it, so don't ask."

He said nothing, merely arched a brow at her as he did so expressively, inquiring silently for her information, without promising not to press for that which she was denying.

"He asked me for my notes on Harry Potter, right after the train attack. Specifically, what research I'd done into what Lily Evans did to save Harry. I think that's what Albus did. I don't know how he did it, because theoretically, what Lily did ought to provide protection for only one person. I mean, most people don't have that much innate magical power to begin with and then, the thing is fueled by love, so most people don't really have that sort of purity of love for more than a very small handful of people, if that."

She looked up at him and smiled wistfully.

"I suppose if there was anyone alive who had enough sheer Magic and enough pure, unconditional love to protect all of Hogwarts, it would have been Albus, hmm?"

"Protect, how, precisely?" he asked, frowning.

"I have no idea. When Lily did it with Harry, she was protecting him one time from a very specific threat. Some of the research I did at the Ministry and the rumors I heard later made me realize the act wasn't as limited as I first thought. Harry's told me a good deal about his experiences with You-Know-Who and how he thinks the lingering protection from his mother has helped him.

"But I have no way to even begin to guess what the effect is of what Albus did. I think if he'd focused all that on one person like Lily did, he could have made that individual bloody near invincible for life.

"What's the effect, diluted out like that and focused primarily on an inanimate building instead of a living being? I have no idea at all. He must have thought it would do some good, though, or he wouldn't have done it, right? I think Filius is trying to look into it, but he doesn't want to do anything obvious or say anything in the staff meetings with Caitlin Garvey nosing around."

"I want those notes," Severus said, commandingly.

"Absolutely not," she said, just as firmly and with the set of her jaw which indicated this would not be an easy discussion.

"I need to know what was done," he said, trying reason first.

"I already told you what I think was done. You do NOT need to know HOW it was done and I'm not about to tell you. I'm not even sure I know exactly. Maybe he didn't even need my notes except to confirm his own information. I'm not giving them to you."

"It would aid me in my work with Potter and the final objective to know for certain how his mother managed to protect him."

"No."

They argued about it for a long time, growing more and more heated on both sides, until the Summons came and he left the house, angrily and without a backward glance.

The reason he wanted the notes and she refused them, were opposite sides of the same coin. She didn't want him to learn and use the ritual to protect her, or Katrina, and thereby feel justified sacrificing his own life. He wanted to learn it for precisely the same reason. He felt his life was already forfeit. Providing that protection in his death might at least give it some worthwhile meaning.

* * *

He returned to the castle relatively unscathed, and now made the effort to try to detect any noticeable changes in the building or its inhabitants. Once he had an idea of what to look for, the minute changes seemed glaringly obvious.

Some effects were physically visible--such as the almost natural 'healing' of the hole in the stone wall created by the Death Eaters the night of the attack. Gaps in the stonework of the building itself, caused by the natural aging and decay of the ancient masonry, also seemed to 'self repair'. It was almost as though the building had become a living entity--even more than it normally was with its trick stairs, moving doors, disappearing corridors and the like.

Student injuries seemed to become all but nonexistent. Classroom practice of combative spells no longer resulted in accidental injuries and even Potions explosions seemed more contained.

This last actually vexed Severus greatly and he cursed the Old Fool even as he mourned him. How could students be taught proper caution and respect for the sometimes dangerous and even potentially deadly art of Potion Brewing if they did not face the real consequences in the controlled environment of his classroom? The same for dueling practice—how could they appreciate the dangers of a real battle if classroom mishaps were a joke?

Interestingly, after his lengthy diatribe on the subject in the apparent privacy of his own quarters, the effect seemed to diminish and he once again had to treat regular bouts of boils, acid burns and accidental poisonings. Filius and Garvey also found a return of normal, expected accidents during spell practice.

It was as though the castle had become, in some small way, sentient.

Albus must have been planning his demise carefully for months. In addition to the obligatory portrait now hanging with the others in the Head's office, the Headmaster had also, at some time, commissioned a full-length pair of portraits. These were for Severus.

_My Dear Boy,_

_Will you consider me as narcissistic as Tom if I leave these for you as a gift? I fear you will take my actions harder than anyone else and I had no means to prepare you for such a step. I seriously feared you would go to great lengths to prevent it._

_I thought you might like these to guard your chambers. I promise to behave myself and not be as rude as Clara who is hanging there now. _

_Do not be angry when I ask you to look after Harry for me. We both know you would do it to the best of your ability even if I did not ask. Thank you._

_I failed you, Severus, all those years ago when you were my student, when you were like Harry, isolated and alone, I failed you. I ought to have stepped in and helped you, protected you as I have done for him. I did not see the danger until it was too late. Perhaps that is why I've been overly indulgent with him—as though in some small way I can make up for my errors with you._

_I have never had children of my own, and you have often heard me say the children of Hogwarts are my children. _

_I think you know I love you as much as though you were my son in truth. Do not grieve my passing. I am quite content. My only regret is that I will not see you and Rowena on your Wedding Day. Yes, I am certain there will be one so do not roll your eyes at me. I did so want to have cherubs singing. _

_Do not despair, Severus. Nothing is ever hopeless when there is love._

_Albus._

He was painted sitting in his favorite over-stuffed chintz armchair, a steaming cup of tea on a small circular table next to him, Fawkes' empty perch visible off to the side, and a large bag of lemon-sherbets propped open on the table. The enchantment was such that they could to be hung with one portrait outside his main door and one portrait on the inside. A person outside would see his front; Severus, inside, would see his back. However, Severus could hear Albus speak to whoever was in the corridor and Albus could hear him decide whether or not to allow the visitor inside, without anyone on the outside hearing what was going on within.

When Albus wished to speak with Severus, he merely turned in his chair as though it was a swivel chair rather than a very sturdy armchair and visitors outside would see his back and have to call his attention in order to request admittance.

It was really very clever and Albus was exceedingly pleased with himself over the idea. Severus even deigned to hang them, though he threatened savagely if he ever let anyone in, unauthorized. The innocent twinkle of the blue eyes when the former Headmaster said, indignantly… "Who, _ME_?"… did not reassure Severus in the least.

However, the portrait was a welcome, if melancholy, reminder of what was lost and he was glad for it.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter likely sometime tomorrow. The story is now done, and I have nearly all of it back from my betas. I am now scrambling to edit their corrections and suggestions to get the story posted before Friday, can't wait for HBP!  



	51. Chapter 51: Unreasonable Demands

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

Once again, proper credit has been given for the artist of the song mentioned in this chapter. It's the last piece of 'musical mediocrity' from Severus, I promise.

* * *

Chapter 51: Unreasonable Demands

* * *

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Pounding on her office door awakened her in the wee hours of Friday night, ten days after Albus' death. The students could not 'see' or get to the door to her quarters, but she could hear visitors to her office through the connecting door. She threw on her flowery dressing gown and rushed to see who was at her door at this hour.

It was Harry Potter, looking as pale and clammy as he had done the night Albus died, clutching his scar.

"Rowena… you'd better get to Grimmauld Place," he croaked hoarsely. "Can I come with you? How do you get there now with the floos so dangerous? We'd better hurry…"

She was already slipping her feet into shoes, now feeling as anxious and panicked as Harry looked.

"What is it? Katrina? Remus? Has the Fidelius Charm failed?"

It was possible to 'transfer' Secret Keepers for that charm in very specific circumstances, though it required basically repeating the ritual to create it in the first place. Would Albus have had time or strength to do that and still do what he did at Hogwarts? If he did, who was Secret Keeper now? She didn't know those answers.

"Snape," Harry said, shaking his head to the others. "I don't really knowhe's there, but I know he's not here and he couldn't have gone to St. Mungo's… and he needs help, bad. Hurry!"

She was already out the door. He grabbed her arm and threw his invisibility cloak over her. She was short enough it easily covered them both. He had grown enough to be almost of a height with Severus. She held onto his arm to stay close enough as they both tried to run flat-out under the cloak.

"The Willow!" she said when he made to head toward the Hogsmeade road. He seemed to understand and found a long enough branch to prod the knot on the tree.

He was undergoing Apparition training, as all students did as soon as they became of-age, but he in no way had the skill to do it accurately yet, nor did he have his license.

"Harry, you've got to trust me. It's very dangerous to Apparate with another Magical person, because Apparition requires focus. If you focus on something different than I'm focusing on, you could splinch us. I'll take you with me, but you've got to entirely let go of your own Magical intent. Can you trust me enough to do that?"

He snorted at her in the dark of the passageway.

"Are you kidding? I've had to do that with Snape for the last six months for our Occlumency stuff—if I can trust HIM, I can surely trust you."

When they reached the correct stretch of the tunnel, she stopped, hugged him, and Apparated them to the back garden of Number 12. They both raced inside the Order door.

A pool of drying blood was on the floor near the door. A bloody handprint marred the new paint in the corridor as spatters of blood made a trail down the hall. Nearly every light in the house was on.

"Dad?" Remus came running out to the door and saw Harry and Rowena. "Oh—I've sent for dad. 'Wena, you'd better stay out here for a bit, Harry, why don't you two go down to the kitchen and get some tea…'

"No!" she said and pushed past him into the drawing room, where Remus had transfigured one of the sofas into a hospital-bed of sorts and Tonks was frantically laying clean towels on a myriad of bloody stripes across Severus' pale back. He sat on the edge of the bed breathing heavily and occasionally coughing up blood.

"Damn! Remus! Have you got any Blood Replenishing potions here?" she asked frantically, drawing her wand to begin the diagnostic charms.

"A few. Not near enough after all the attacks lately. I'll go get what I can. Dad should be here any minute."

Severus merely glared at her as she worked. He had a broken rib which had punctured his lung, collapsing it and causing significant internal bleeding. It therefore required all his effort simply to breathe; so he couldn't snark at her. His back and chest were all but shredded from what looked like a scourge. Adding to the complications were the occasional, uncontrollable muscle spasms, the aftershocks of severe Cruciatus damage which caused the bits of broken rib to tear at the already savaged lung-tissue.

She did a few minor spells to slow the internal bleeding. It was by no means her area of expertise and she was afraid of doing more harm than good—where _was_ her father? She then focused on her Solicify Charm to soothe the Cruciatus aftershocks, at least, so they couldn't cause him additional damage.

Thankfully, John Lupin arrived a few minutes after Harry and Rowena with a fully stocked Potions bag, as well as his significant skill and reassuring demeanor.

"Sorry, Severus. I'd have gotten here sooner but I had to restock at the hospital. We'll have you right as rain in no time."

It wasn't 'no time', but it was surely as quick as anyone could hope for. He started with the most life-threatening injuries first, of course, and warned Severus about taking his regenerative potions properly for the next several days while the delicate lung-tissue healed. It was too much to hope he could avoid over-exposure to noxious fumes in his line of work. He also administered several Blood Replenishing potions, Grimmauld Place having been out entirely. He stopped the bleeding and bandaged the external wounds, but Severus would not allow him to heal them completely. The regeneration potions would speed their healing as well, but if they healed too quickly, it would just make his next interview worse.

Tonks, Harry and Rowena cleaned the blood from the entrance and hall while John worked, then sat nervously in the kitchen waiting for word. Remus was 'allowed' to stay to assist John as he worked—Remus, not Rowena.

* * *

John and Remus entered the kitchen three hours later; both looking fatigued but accomplished.

"Well, he's as good as he'll let me do. I'd love to see that boy on five days of strict bed rest, but it's no more likely to happen than me doing it myself, so that's that." He stopped to kiss Rowena on the top of her head. "He'll be okay, love."

He went out the Order door and Apparated away. Remus poured himself a cup of tea and sat heavily at the table before looking up guiltily at Rowena.

"Harry, Severus would like a word with you before he returns to Hogwarts," Remus said dully. Harry glanced at him in fearful surprise, but did not question as he left the room. "He… er… specifically said he did NOT want to see you just now, 'Wena. Sorry. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he's pretty angry."

Rowena nodded.

"It's okay, Remus. I know what he's tetchy about and it's not very easily resolvable. Don't worry about it. Thanks for letting him come here."

"No where else safe for him to go now, is there?" he asked, shaking his head sadly. "Dad said he'd stock the Potion stores here tomorrow so I'll be a bit more prepared next time."

Next time. How much longer could he continue to survive this level of 'discussion'?

* * *

"If Professor Lupin finds out what the Dark Lord wants, Potter, you will wish to every deity ever worshiped you could switch places with ME, because I will make what you saw tonight seem like a Quidditch accident—do I make myself perfectly clear?" he snarled. His lungs were clearly working just fine now.

Harry had only just shut the door behind him when the threat was hurled at him with all the force of a Hex. He actually flinched as though to dodge a blow. He then nodded, miserably.

"I understand, Professor."

"Who was your 'ground'? Not Lupin?"

"No… I… okay, this is going to sound really weird, and you might even think I'm lying, but I swear it's true, Professor… The thing is, I think what Professor Dumbledore did 'grounded' me. It doesn't feel the same anymore, after what he did. I felt the pain of my scar when you were first being… when Voldemort did the Cruciatus and then I just sort of 'checked in'. To see if it was another attack on the school or something.

"The pain wasn't so bad that I couldn't focus, and I felt like Dumbledore was there with me—just like when you do it. You sort of feel one way, and he feels another, but I could just _tell_ it was him, does that make sense?"

"No, it does not. But, knowing Albus, that was probably at least part of his intent—to keep us all guessing. Very well. Come to me tomorrow and I will make certain you are not being corrupted. I still prefer you to use another Occlumens, but obviously Lupin is no longer an option."

"This really sucks, you know? All that work you did, what Dumbledore did, and it's all going to fail anyway, isn't it?"

"Hell if I know, Potter," Severus said wearily. "Now get out."

* * *

Things were getting desperate. Severus was gone every other day and, while Harry had been forbidden to tell her anything more, Remus and Tonks had not. She knew he had been to Headquarters three nights that next week, being healed again from severe injuries. She also learned he had been stopping in regularly since Albus' death, though the initial visits had not required more than a few healing potions. There was only a little more than a week remaining before Halloween and Rowena knew Severus was expected to provide his 'proof of loyalty' before then… or else.

The severed Bond ached constantly, but it was such a constant, burning pain it was lost amid the fear, stress and worry of the situation in general. He remained angry with her and had stopped 'accidentally' touching her in footsie under the table at meals, or casual gestures when they had rare occasion to interact. He could be angry all he wanted—she was NOT going to give him those notes!

Garvey even became a non-issue. As soon as Dumbledore was gone, she buckled down and worked her classes very hard, but apparently efficiently. It seemed she wanted to keep the 'plush' job and wanted to have a good record to show whomever the new Headmaster or Headmistress might be.

Rowena continued weeping over the wireless cubes he had given her, listening to them each in turn before going to bed at night. The music and the aching emptiness of the Bond were her only assurances they once had something together and her only hope that if they survived, they might again.

* * *

She sat bolt upright in bed, clutching at her chest and gasping for breath. She was suddenly awash in such a wave of love and passion and wistful sorrow, she almost felt bathed in it. The pain was gone, entirely gone, and in its place was all the sweet emotion she had felt from him when the Bond had first been formed so long ago in Albus' office.

The undertone of it all was the definite, unmistakable, wistful taint of 'goodbye'.

She scrambled in the darkness for her wand. What had Hermione said months ago? Some sacrifice of love to repair the Bond—if such a repair was possible? She found her wand and waved it to illuminate her room.

There, on her nightstand was an envelope, her name on it in Severus' hand. He must have had one of his elves deliver it to bring it so freely directly to her, without concealment.

_Rowena,_

_It is done. I cannot give Him what he requires of me. I will not. He has, at last, found my breaking point and, yet, I find I am able to defy him to the end. I will not submit._

_I have a lifetime of regrets, not the least of which is yet again parting with you at odds. For once in my life I wanted to do something as noble and heroic as those bloody Gryffindors are often credited with. I ought not to have quarreled with you over your notes. _

_This last vapid bit of musical mediocrity varies from the others. It conveys not what I feel presently or what I hope for the future, but what I very much wish could have been. I would not have believed myself capable of wanting something so prosaic, but then you, my naïve Ravenclaw, belong in a fairy tale. Only a true Princess could make the Beast long to be a Man._

_That has been your gift to me, whether you realized it or not. You have made me aspire to be something greater than I ever thought possible. I have failed in the attempt, but it has not been unpleasant to have the aspiration._

_Yours,_

_S. _

"No, no, no," she repeated over and over as she read the letter, denying its meaning even as the sensation of the Bond told her it was likely true—or at least in the process of becoming true. It was not wholly healed; she could not reach out to him, as she had been able to do when it was new. It seemed she couldn't send him a return 'message' of emotion because her end was not healed, but she could feel his. She didn't think she would feel it so clearly if he had died.

The parchment again turned into the now precious cube and she put it in the wireless next to her bed, already crying and trying to determine what, if anything, she could DO to prevent what seemed to have already happened—or at least BE happening.

_**Artist: Peter Cetera  
Song: Glory Of Love **_

_As we're both lying here  
There's so many things I want to say  
I will always love you  
I would never leave you alone_

_Sometimes I just forget  
Say things I might regret  
It breaks my heart to see you crying  
I don't wanna lose you  
I could never make it alone_

_  
I am a man who will fight for your honor  
I'll be the hero you're dreaming of  
We'll live forever  
Knowing together that we  
Did it all for the glory of love_

_  
You'll keep me standing tall  
You'll help me through it all  
I'm always strong when you're beside me  
I have always needed you  
I could never make it alone_

_I am a man who will fight for your honor  
I'll be the hero you've been dreaming of  
We'll live forever  
Knowing together that we  
Did it all for the glory of love_

_Just like a knight in shining armor  
From a long time ago  
Just in time I will save the day  
Take you to my castle far away_

_  
I am a man who will fight for your honor  
I'll be the hero you're dreaming of  
We're gonna live forever  
Knowing together that we  
Did it all for the glory of love_

We'll live forever  
Knowing together that we  
Did it all for the glory of love

_

* * *

_

He wished he could have been that for her? Didn't he see that in so many ways, he already was? What was it, if not a 'fight' for her honor, that he did not make love to her until they were married? What was it, if not heroic, that he constantly, repeatedly, unendingly _struggled_, endangering his very _life_ to protect not only her and Katrina, but also the entire Wizarding World?

Long minutes of wretched sobbing passed away before she could pull herself together enough to dress and make a half-hearted attempt at focus. She had to _think._

She tried to consider whom she could contact who might be able to help her. Remus and Tonks of course and perhaps Albus' portrait had useful information. Her thoughts had gotten no further than that as she left her bedroom. She stopped in surprise at the sight of three identical little creatures moping in the dark, in her quarters. She waved her wand to light her lanterns and looked at them in shock.

Severus' house elves stood before her, one of whom was playing with Vixen. The ferret had come to know them by now, so apparently hadn't felt any need to alert Rowena to their presence.

"Master Sevvie is saying we is belonging to you now, Miss," said one of the three mournful looking house-elves. Likely Joseph, as he seemed always to be the spokesman if they were together.

"Excuse me?" she asked, bewildered and still disoriented in her distress.

"You is our Mistress now, Miss," said another with just a touch of annoyance, as though she were particularly dim-witted. She recognized Antoine's demeanor, as he was the haughtiest of the three.

"Master Sevvie is saying he is not coming back this time," said Henry, his ears drooping a bit more than his brothers' did. He seemed to be the most sensitive of the brothers. "He is liking you, he is wanting us to look after you now. You and Miss Katie."

"No! He's not…" she started to deny their change in ownership, to insist Severus was still alive and would STAY that way if she had anything to say about it—when she realized that this might just be the help she needed. The part of her mind Severus would have referred to as 'Slytherin' with that note of exasperated pride kicked in full gear. To rescue a spy, one had to think like a spy, right?

"Very well," she said with an abrupt change of tone. She took a deep breath and attempted to compose her emotions.

"Antoine, I would like you to bring me a bottle of Veritaserum and the antidote discs from Severus' private stores, please. Henry, I need tea and biscuits for two in my office in about ten minutes. Joseph, I would like to speak with Harry Potter in my office, as soon as he can get there."

The three elves looked at each other in uncertainty.

"What did Severus say to do with his belongings?" she asked with just an edge of asperity and a desperate hope she was correct in her gamble.

"He is saying whatever you is wanting is yours," said Joseph, a small gleam of something like approval in his eyes. "We is doing as you ask, Mistress."

There was only one "pop" as the three vanished simultaneously. She brushed and rebraided her hair quickly and then went to her office to wait.

* * *

Rowena was not formed for subterfuge, perhaps, and far too naïve for her own good almost certainly. However, she could at least claim to be more intelligent than Dolores Umbridge!

Her antidote disc was already securely against her cheek and she had dosed the water for tea, as well as the milk in case he chose not to have tea. It was a very underhanded move, of course, but then she desperately needed to know what was going on and could think of no other way to find out.

"Rowena, please don't ask me," Harry said immediately, as soon as he stepped inside her office and shut the door. He was pale and sweaty, his scar blazing an angry red against the pallor of his forehead. His eyes were red-rimmed as though he had been crying. "He'll kill me if I say anything—even if he has to come back as a ghost to do it. Please don't ask me. I promised not to tell."

She offered Harry a commiserating smile—she had little doubt Severus would be all too willing and happy to come back as a ghost and do just that! However, she had no intention of allowing him to become a ghost to begin with.

"I already know, Harry," she said evasively as she poured two cups of tea. He occasionally took his tea black, other times with milk, so she passed the milk to him to allow him to prepare it how he wished. "His house elves came to me tonight and told me they are 'mine' now because he's not coming back."

She didn't need to pretend to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm real sorry, Rowena. He's been trying to get Voldemort to trust him just on his word for almost two weeks now. The stuff they've done to him! Well, I guess you know by now he'd rather they kill him than let anything happen to you. The thing is, Voldemort knows it, too. He knows Professor Snape's own life doesn't matter to him nearly so much as yours does."

"And so that's what he wants. Me," she said matter-of-factly, as though she had known all along. Fear threatened to constrict her airway. She couldn't afford to panic now.

She didn't miss the irony—he indeed had let her become his 'breaking point', just as she had feared.

Harry sipped at his tea and then gave her a panic-stricken look of hurt betrayal, recognizing the effect of the Veritaserum an instant before it took hold.

"I'm very sorry, Harry, but I'm not going to let him do this without a fight and this way you're not breaking your promise because you have no choice. Tell me exactly what you know about what You-Know-Who wants from Severus."

So he did.

* * *

"I can't believe you did that to me!" he said half an hour later when the effects of the Veritaserum had worn off. She had been silently fidgeting with her teacup after getting the needed information, waiting. "I mean, Snape, yeah, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He even said some of Dumbledore's lemon sherbets were laced with it, which is why he never took any sweets from him. But YOU?"

"I'm sorry! You know why I had to do it, though don't you?"

"What good is it going to do? He's been there for hours. If he's not dead now, he's as good as," Harry said, sounding almost frantic beneath his anger.

"Harry—can you do that thing—what you said Severus has been doing? Can you try and make You-Know-Who… change his mind or something? Let him go? Plant the idea to give him one more chance?"

Harry looked at her thoughtfully.

"Maybe. Voldemort really, REALLY wants to take that potion. He's almost desperate for Snape to give him the proof he's asked for, just so he can take it. Snape keeps saying you're too well protected; it's too hard to get you away from the castle without witnesses. I think Garvey's been talking to Narcissa, because Lucius said something about that matching his information, too.

"Lucius and Snape have some sort of… deal. I don't know exactly what it is, but I caught a glimpse of it once in our Occlumency lessons, something about you and Katrina. It sort of looked like Snape agreed to protect Draco in exchange for Lucius protecting you two. I suppose Lucius is doing that just in case they lose the war, huh?"

"Probably," Rowena shrugged. Her mind was still on trying to help Severus. "How much can you do? How specific can the information be?"

"It's not really planting information; it's just sort of pushing his thoughts around in there. Kinda like if each thought was a box or something. I feel like I sort of 'hide' behind the box and nudge it forward. If he really wanted Snape dead just because he wanted him dead, I probably couldn't do it because there would be no thoughts of Snape living to push 'forward'.

"But there's plenty of thoughts in there about how angry he is over losing his best Potions Master and stuff. He's been trying to think of a way to make it 'easier' for Snape to do what he wants. He's been trying to think of different ways to make it possible for Snape to bring you without instantly losing him as a spy here at the school, too.

"He doesn't waiver on it being YOU he wants. Snape and I tried a bunch to change that right after that night we were all at Grimmauld Place, but there's no other option to push forward. Snape wanted me to make him think Snape's death alone would be enough, but there's not the slightest thought of THAT in there."

"I see," she said with a sigh, toying with her braid. "Well, there isn't much time… just try, okay? Wait—how is Severus supposed to get me there? Is he supposed to bring me himself?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. That will never work. He'll never do it." She chewed on her lip a minute then looked back at Harry. "Okay, try to get him to let Severus go… That's the main thing. But try to see if there's anything that would give him the idea to change the instructions just a little bit. See if you can get him to think it would be easier to accomplish if Severus handed me off to someone, maybe Lucius, and then Lucius brought me there. Do you want me to connect with you?"

Harry shook his head.

"No. I think I can do it. Just… stay here. If… if it's too late, well, I'll let you know."

"It's NOT too late," she said firmly. She no longer felt the huge wash of love and affection through the Bond, but she also had no pain. He was either unconscious or still strong enough to try to deliberately close off the connection to hide it from You-Know-Who. Surely if he was dead, it would hurt again, worse than ever? She HAD to believe that.

She chewed anxiously on her bottom lip, watching as Harry's eyes lost focus.

* * *

"Okay… I think it worked. Lucius is taking him out I don't know where he'll take him," Harry said, looking back at her. "Rowena, he doesn't look good. Even Voldemort thought he was 'changing his mind' too late."

An Owl tapped on her window at precisely that moment.

_Dear Miss Lupin,_

_  
I have something which I believe holds some value to you. How long that value might last, I cannot say. I realize you have no reason to trust me and I have no time for games. You may retrieve the package by the stile on the northernmost edge of Hogsmeade wards. Bring all the protection you like but come quickly or your package will be worthless._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy._

"Joseph!" Rowena called out and the elf appeared at once. "Will you please go to Miss Katie's home immediately? Tell Remus I need his help at Hogsmeade as soon as he can come. If he can, have him bring anyone else from the Order he can gather quickly, but it must be right away. I'm headed there now and I won't wait. Tell Tonks to get my father to the house immediately.

"When you return here to the school, I would like you three NOT to come to my brother's house for a few days. I will tell you when it is okay to go and see Miss Katie again. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss." The little elf bowed low and disappeared with a 'pop'.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"He gave me his House Elves. I think I'm going to need their help. If they know he's alive, they'll switch back to following HIS orders, not mine, and that will be that. Not a word, Harry," she said, casting him a warning glance. Harry, inexplicably was grinning at her.

"No wonder he likes you. You can be as sneaky and underhanded as he is," he said, shaking his head even as they both rushed out the door.

She smiled weakly back; to her the sentiment was almost high-praise.

* * *

He was a mess. She'd never seen him this bad. Hell, she didn't think she'd ever seen _anyone_ this bad, even when she helped her dad during the first war. Lucius left him crumpled in a heap where he had said. Kingsley and Alastor answered Remus' call so they were with her when she found him. Remus Apparated Harry to Number 12 and Rowena took Severus with a levitation spell, only holding gently to one hand, afraid to touch him anywhere else because she might cause even more damage. Moody went with her for protection, while Kingsley went to Hogwarts to get Poppy Pomfrey. She was a Nurse, rather than a Healer, but at this point in time, Kingsley figured John Lupin was going to need assistance. Hell, he was going to need an effing miracle.

The makeshift hospital bed still remained in the drawing room. Apparently, Severus had needed it so often lately they didn't bother to transfigure it back into the sofa, though it had crisp, clean white sheets on it and a table full of bandages and potions right beside it.

Rowena had never felt so helpless, or wished more fervently she had followed her father's desire and actually become a Healer. Her limited knowledge was all but useless here. She stopped some bleeding, relieved pressure on his brain from a severe concussion, used magic to remove all his clothes and cover him with a sheet—his clothing had been left on him as they tortured him, so that his robes were shredded and contaminating the open wounds. Had she tried to pull them away, she would have made them bleed freely again, but by vanishing them, she could also make certain no fragments were left behind to cause infection. That was her next step, as she waited anxiously for her father or Poppy—or ANYONE with more Healing skill than she had to arrive. She carefully went through, wound by wound, and began to disinfect them magically so they could be healed properly.

He barely breathed. His heartbeat was very rapid, but weak and thready, having already lost so much blood. The internal injuries were so extensive she didn't dare try to get him to drink a Blood Replenishing potion.

Where was her father?

It was as though the Death Eaters had been given free rein tonight—as perhaps they had been. She didn't want to ask Harry and didn't want to let him come and see Severus this bad, though he probably saw enough when he went into You-Know-Who's mind earlier tonight. There were terrible, bloody rope burns at his wrists which suggested he had been restrained by them. Numerous bones in his fine, long-fingered hands were broken so the strong fingers twisted unnaturally. Arms, legs, ribs, too many fractures to count. Not his back, thank Merlin, no injury to his spine, though the concussion might be severe enough to make none of the rest matter.

"Merlin's Beard!"

Rowena looked up to see her dad rushing forward, Poppy not far behind. As glad as she was to see him, already with his wand out, diagnosing, she was not reassured by the expression on his face. He was usually calm and confident, always insisting things were not as bad as they seemed. 'We'll have you right as rain in no time' was a very common expression he used, no matter how apparently severe the injuries.

This time, he said nothing, but worked in tense silence, giving Poppy directions as they tried to treat multiple life-threatening, urgent problems at once.

Magical Healing is a wonderful thing. Compared to what Muggles must deal with, it is nothing short of miraculous. He lived through the night, though he had not regained consciousness, partially on purpose as John administered a healthy dose of a sedating potion. The bones were the easiest things to mend, but the soft tissue damage of muscle, tendon, and internal organs had to do most of the non-lethal healing over time. John knew Severus well enough by now to know if the man could crawl to work, he probably would do it. Well, no, not crawl, not Snape.

The point was sedating him heavily until he had time to heal some of the more extensive injuries was the only way to make sure the man GOT the time his body needed.

Rowena and Harry returned to Hogwarts as soon as they knew he would live. Harry thankfully had brought his cloak and his map when Rowena first summoned him, so they were able to sneak back inside unnoticed. Rowena rushed to Minerva's quarters to inform her of what happened. Most of the student population was quite thrilled to hear that Potions class would be cancelled for the day at least. John would send a Potion's Master from St. Mungo's to take his classes by tomorrow.

* * *

It was three days before he was healed enough to regain consciousness. He was beyond furious to find himself _alive_ and so it required a great deal of work on the part of Remus and Tonks to keep him sedated and in the house.

Once he was conscious, he received an Owl from an unknown source. The Fidelius Charm of Grimmauld Place did not affect Post Owls, even ones sent by Voldemort. Whatever the missive was it burned up as soon as Severus had read it, leaving him in more of a rage than ever, even though he was too weak to do anything more than snarl. He refused any more potions, food or drink from the Lupins and would have attempted to return to Hogwarts.

Apparently Voldemort could do more than just 'summon' with the Dark Mark, in addition to knowing if any given Death Eater was alive or dead. Severus hissed in pain and clutched at his arm. It was not a summons, but merely an additional message to punctuate the physical note. The burning pain, without direction to Apparate to the Dark Lord, was just a unique, long-distance method of torment which was almost as effective as the Cruciatus.

In his weakened state, thirty minutes of the unrelenting pain was all it took for him to lose consciousness again. John Lupin had to be summoned to repair some internal damage of areas which had not fully healed and had been re-injured in the wracking spasms caused by the pain. The intensive sedating potions were resumed—before he could regain consciousness enough to refuse.

When Remus told Rowena of this, in his regular updates to her, she sent for Harry at once.

"I need to know what was in that note," she said, pacing nervously. "Did Severus' instructions change? Can you find out?"

His eyes lost focus almost immediately and he was silent. She had to resist the urge to tap her toes impatiently. He finally looked at her again, but his frown was worried.

"It worked. He wants Professor Snape to take you to Lucius at their house. He's supposed to leave you there and Lucius will 'handle the rest'."

Rowena smiled grimly and nodded.

"Okay, then."

"Um, Rowena, how is that a good thing? He's no more likely to take you to Lucius than to Voldemort."

"I know. Sorry, Harry, I'm not going to tell you any more, so you can't get in trouble—well, I suppose you'll be in some trouble already. He's going to be very angry. I need you to give him a message, okay? Give him a while to burn out the worst of his rage, but you need to tell him I've altered my spell so no one can negate it but him—not even me. Can you remember that?"

"What spell?"

"Never mind. He'll know what I mean and that's all that matters. Harry, I might need you to help me, like you helped Severus, so be alert."

"Shite! Rowena, you're not actually GOING are you? How? Snape will never take you…"

"Enough questions, Harry. Off to class with you."


	52. Chapter 52: Paying the Price

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

* * *

Chapter 52: Paying the Price

* * *

"Albus, I would like to get inside Severus' quarters, please," she said firmly to the portrait. Severus had heavily warded their adjoining doors sometime after Albus' death, probably due to their row. She was in no humor to spend hours trying to work her way through them.

To her surprise, he nodded and opened without question. Once inside, he turned his chair to face her. His voice was as sad as his face and she realized he was crying.

"I don't know why you haven't come before now. He told me what he was going to do. I see now why you didn't want to share your notes with anyone—what use is it if we each sacrifice ourselves to save the ones we love, if those people just repeat the sacrifice? Who is left?

"He's gone then?"

She realized the portrait had no way of knowing he was still alive. Remus had been very cautious to keep the portraits in Grimmauld place privacy-warded. She didn't want to lie to him, but she might need his cooperation, so she shrugged evasively.

"I wanted everything to work out for you two. I wanted you to get married again and adopt Katrina and have a dozen children of your own. If anyone deserved to finally find some happiness in life, it was Severus. Do something for me, Rowena? Make certain the information I gave you in that Pensieve still comes to light? At least let him finally get that Order of Merlin posthumously?"

She nodded around the lump in her throat and blinked back tears.

"Albus, I'm sorry to do this, but I need to Ward you for a while. You'll understand later, but I need to close this side of the painting. I'm expecting Remus to come, please let him in, but no one else."

He looked at her curiously, but nodded and turned the chair again so his back was to her, and she warded it.

* * *

"Rowena, this is never going to work," Remus said, looking at her gravely. His usually friendly face was tight with worry, adding stark emphasis to the smile lines by his mouth and eyes. He as not smiling now. "You can't ask me to help you walk blindly into death!"

"I'm not going blindly and I have no intention of dying," she said, standing in front of Severus' potions cupboard, though she was looking at the contents blankly. He labeled things in some sort of code which was a mixture of characters from other languages and magical runes. No doubt he knew exactly what was what, but it was gibberish to her. "And I'm not going to let HIM die to try to protect me. It will work. That's how Severus got out this time already. I just need you to help me get in there. If you won't do it, I'll ask Harry."

This she said somewhat threateningly and Remus had no doubt she at least believed Harry would help her. He couldn't deny she was probably right. Not all Severus' complaints about the boy being overly heroic, overly reckless and all too willing to act first, think later were unfounded!

"You've got to give me some hope of your safety, then," he said anxiously, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's to stop them from killing you outright the moment you get there?"

"They know I'm in the Order, they'll probably want to try and get information out of me. That should be good enough to prevent an on-the-spot killing. After that… we wing it." She turned from the potion cupboard to try and offer him a reassuring smile. "Nothing is guaranteed, Remus. What I DO know is if I don't do something, he's going to kill Severus. I'm not willing to stand by and watch that and do nothing. Would you, if it was Tonks?"

He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, looking at her imploringly. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he shook his head.

"No," he said. He closed his eyes and rubbed them tiredly with his hand. They had been arguing this plan for half an hour, but he had been unable to find an alternate solution. She had a rational explanation for his every objection.

He tried once more.

"Well, let's go back to this Polyjuice idea, then. Why don't I take YOUR place instead of Snape's?"

"No. Your Occlumency's no better than mine is. He'd see through the deception at once and he'd kill you and still kill Severus anyway. Besides, I don't think one hour is going to cut it, even if you held your Occlumency, you'd be given away when it wore off. I don't suppose they're going to allow me to hang onto a hip flask.

"Joseph!" she called, staring back into the indecipherable cupboard. The little elf appeared at once. Remus was sitting in one of Severus' leather chairs near his desk, currently leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.

"Joseph, which of these is a Polyjuice base? I also need his newest multi-purpose poison antidote and another Veritaserum-antidote disk."

The house elf unerringly found what she needed and blinked at her expectantly.

"Is we allowed to go back and visits Miss Katie, Miss? We is not liking not following Master Sevvie's last directions, even if we is your house elves now."

"Tomorrow, Joseph," she said, smiling gently. "Katrina misses you, too. You can go back there tomorrow morning, but not before eight o'clock, okay?"

"Thank you, Miss," he said and vanished with a 'pop'.

"He thinks Severus is dead?" Remus asked and she nodded, giving him a pale shadow of her impish grin.

"Rowena you should have been a Marauder," he said, shaking his head with a worried chuckle.

"Severus says I should have been sorted into Slytherin House," she returned, clutching the bottles the elf had given her. She suddenly looked very lost and alone.

"Honey, aren't you scared?"

"Terrified!" she said with a shaky laugh which added weight to the word. "But I'm a lot more scared of not doing it, of trying to live my life knowing that Severus and I did nothing to try and stop it. This is our only chance. I think I can do it. I have confidence in Harry's ability to help me get out.

"You can stop sedating Severus so heavily as soon as I'm gone. I just want to make sure there's no way he can stop me. He can help Harry. I don't really understand what they're doing, but that's how Harry got Severus out. With both of them working together… well, I've got a better chance than anyone else would have.

"It's not just about Severus and me anyway, you know. If I don't do this, if You-Know-Who doesn't drink that potion, then it's going to be a lot harder to win the war. I don't know much about how it's supposed to work, but I know Severus, Harry and Albus all believe it's our best hope for victory. Look how many people are being hurt or dying everyday right now. What right do I have to sit safe at home when there's something I can do which might make a difference?"

"Alright, Rowena, tell me what you want me to do," he said resignedly.

* * *

"You'll have to let me Apparate us to the Malfoy's," she said anxiously as she adjusted Severus' robes around him. They were back at Grimmauld Place and Remus had just taken a draught of Polyjuice potion into which Rowena had placed one of Severus hairs, taken from the injured man as he lay unconscious a few feet away.

"Bloody hell, I ache everywhere," Remus said, rubbing at sore muscles and bruises.

"I know. I'm sorry. We had to use hair from him now—if he looks too healthy after what he just endured Lucius would get suspicious. I'm already worried your lycanthropy will heal you too fast."

"It doesn't seem to be. Must be because they aren't 'real' injuries to me, eh?" Remus looked at her from behind Severus' eyes, though the fair skin still bore the yellowish green marks of fading bruises around the eyes and nose which made the dark shadows under his eyes seem even more pronounced.

She shrugged distractedly.

"Frown a little. Severus never looks that relaxed, certainly not in a situation like this. That's better. You need to look a bit more intimidating, even though you're hurt. Try and sound threatening, if you can," she said worriedly. "Hold your shoulders straighter."

"Rowena, I'm about to drop my only sister off to an unknown and very possibly deadly fate. I think I can manage to sound irritable and threatening. I'm not a total wimp!" he said with exasperation—in a face which still looked too mild to really BE Severus, and not for the first time she worried Lucius would catch the discrepancies. They screamed "Remus" at her, in spite of him wearing Severus' body and clothing.

"No, Remus, you're not a wimp. You are also not Severus Snape."

"I've known him long enough; I can pull it off for as long as this will probably take. Have some faith in me." He did shift a little in the robes, made his shoulders and back more rigid and let a bored look settle over the borrowed features. Better.

She nodded.

"Okay, then. If something happens, there's a note for you in my quarters. Joseph is supposed to get it if you ask. Albus left me information to exonerate Severus if the Ministry gives him trouble, I'll want you to make sure that comes out."

"Nothing is going to happen," he said firmly, as though trying to make himself believe it.

"I have to plan for contingencies," she said, setting her wand on the table. "Here's my wand. I'll take my Dark Wand with me, but I'm sure they'll take it away. That one can be replaced easily enough. I don't want to lose my good one."

She was very fond of her wand, as any witch or wizard was. It had seemed very incongruous to her at the time, when this wand 'chose' her. Willow, which was not surprising. Common, soft and flexible, not something one would associate with strength in general, though very good for charms work. The wood seemed to fit, or at least fit how she felt about herself at the time—and always had done.

It was the core which had seemed incongruous to her at the time. She had only recently begun to think that perhaps it was more appropriate than she had realized.

Dragon heartstring. Arguably the strongest material Mr. Ollivander used to make magical wands. It was even an unusual combination of wood and core—or at least so Mr. Ollivander had said. Usually the willow is too weak to house that strong of a core, it is more compatible with Unicorn hair.

She desperately hoped she'd live up to the seemingly untapped potential her wand implied. If ever she needed the core of inner strength that dragon heartstring suggested, it was now!

"Well, I'm as ready as I'm going to be," she said nervously, fidgeting with the Veritaserum antidote disk she had just placed against her cheek. She drank the poison antidote as well. "The clock is ticking on your potion. Shall we?"

* * *

"Severus, Rowena, this is a pleasant surprise," said Lucius Malfoy smoothly as he opened the door to his enormous home.

"I realize the visit is unscheduled. I trust it is not unwelcome." Remus said in a fairly decent impression of Severus' bored tones he used with Lucius.

"Of course not, Severus, do come in, both of you. You are always welcome to our home," he stepped aside and there was a hint of definite approval as he escorted them to the elegant parlor where Narcissa was sitting, working on her correspondence.

"Severus! Darling! You look awful, you need a nice holiday," she said with a wicked smile, clearly knowing full well why 'Severus' would be looking ill.

"Narcissa,' he said with a very slight incline of his head. Rowena's heart was pounding in fear, but so far she was incredibly impressed with how well he was able to imitate Severus' mannerisms. "I hardly have time for a holiday in the middle of term."

"Of course," Lucius said. "Will you stay for dinner?"

Already 'Severus' was shaking his head.

"I am merely providing escort. I must return to my 'sick bed' before I am missed," he said sardonically. "I informed Professor Lupin you have desired a visit to discuss Draco's plans after he has completed Hogwarts. He has expressed interest in Research, as you are no doubt aware. Today the Professor finds herself with some leisure time."

"Lovely!" Narcissa exclaimed with warm insincerity, turning her attention to Rowena.

Lucius excused himself from the women and walked 'Severus' back to the door.

"I have to tell you, Severus, I was beginning to think you wouldn't do it. I thought perhaps you had truly gone soft for her," he said quietly, near the door.

'Severus' merely raised a haughty brow.

"You realize it will be exceedingly difficult for me to maintain my end of our… agreement? Considering where she is going? Surely you release me from our bargain?"

"I release you from nothing. I expect you merely to do your best, as will I."

Lucius gave a small nod.

"Who knows she is here?"

"No one. She came to visit the child. I was taken to her brother's house for treatment—I still have not been 'cleared' medically to return to Hogwarts. The happy family is out for the day. She expected me to still be unconscious—as no doubt I will be when I return and consume the potions I am expected to use during my recovery. No one saw us together. I believe she consented to come with me because she feared upsetting me if she refused, in my 'weakened' state."

Lucius smiled evilly.

"I do not believe you have a 'weakened state' if you are conscious, Severus," he said. "What did you tell her to get her to come here?"

"We have been at odds lately, but that does not mean she has ceased to trust me," he said dryly, "I told her precisely what I told your wife. She has no idea what she faces, but it was no hardship to get her away. The difficulty has been in accomplishing it without witnesses, as I have tried to explain to our Master."

"Ah, well, he is not known to be reasonable, is he? Very well, then, get back before you are missed. I think he will be very pleased with you, Severus. Very pleased indeed."

'Severus' merely nodded his head once and left.

Narcissa poured tea, which Rowena was too frightened and nervous to drink. Would Remus remember the 'story' they'd agreed upon? What was taking so long, was Lucius suspicious?

She never thought she'd be relieved to see Lucius Malfoy enter a room, but when he walked in looking as suave and cultured as always, she breathed more easily.

"Rowena, I failed to greet you properly when you first arrived," Lucius said, smiling his perfect, friendly smile and holding out his hand to for her to shake. As soon as her hand closed in his, his smile became more savage.

"_Portus_," he said.

His signet ring was a Portkey.

* * *

She fell on the rough terrain as they stopped spinning, though he had not let go of her hand and he did not fall.

"Accio wand," he said, catching her dark wand easily. "You can cooperate with me, Rowena, or we can make this unpleasant. I have a task to do and I intend to fulfil it. I suggest that as soon as I release your hand, you do that nasty little burning flesh spell you have, for all the good it might do you."

"Where are we?" she asked dazedly, nodding her understanding to his instructions and rising to her feet. He released her hand only long enough to grab it with the other. It might have looked like they were lovers out on a stroll except for how painfully tight he was gripping her fingers.

"The seat of the new Power of the Wizarding World, my dear," he said with a malicious smile. In a few strides they had passed some sort of concealment charm so she was facing an enormous building, at least twice the size of the Malfoy's home. She had no time to make note of windows, doors, or even significant landmarks around her as she was forcibly tugged inside. He dragged her through a series of corridors until she had lost all sense of direction. At last they entered a huge room, not unlike a throne room of old—complete with dais, throne and someone sitting regally upon it.

He pulled her hand up behind her back to use the leverage to push her forward in front of him. When they reached the throne, he kicked his knee against the back of hers causing her to stumble. He shoved as she struggled to regain her balance so she fell to hands and knees a few feet before the dais which held the throne.

"She is here, my Lord," Lucius said unnecessarily. "He brought her to my home himself, not an hour ago."

"Excellent," the high voice said triumphantly.

Huddled on the floor, Rowena trembled violently, terror gripping at her chest so tightly she could scarce draw breath. She felt cold as ice, trembling violently, as though she had just been dropped into the bottomless depths of an icy sea of abject horror. Her heart hammered painfully as her lungs struggled to draw terrified, shallow, panting breaths. She had to focus! Concentrate! She ignored the conversation occurring above her and muttered softly, under her breath.

"_Navitas texi."_

_

* * *

_

Severus woke in the dark silence. For a time, he was disoriented as to where he was, or indeed, why he was even alive.

Potter. He remembered that much of the werewolf's explanation. Potter and Rowena. Somehow they had managed to effect his survival, his 'escape'. He was not grateful for it!

Then, he remembered the Owl, the message, and the pain in his Mark which had caused unconsciousness again. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he felt very little pain, so he must have been out long enough for a great deal of healing to occur. The Mark was not black, as it would be from a recent summons or the pain he had experienced, but simply a dark red against his pale skin.

How long?

Why was the Mark quiescent now? He had not complied with the instructions, he ought to have been tortured to death through the connection, perhaps even given the small mercy of not regaining consciousness enough to be fully aware of the pain.

He felt around in the darkness. The table next to the bed was littered with potion bottles… and a wand. It did not feel like HIS wand, but at the moment he was grateful for any wand.

"Lumos," he said softly. His voice was even back in his control. It felt slightly strained, but it had nothing of the hoarseness and pain, which normally followed the hours of screaming. He had lost at least several days to the haze of unconsciousness.

It appeared the darkness was not because of the hour, but because someone had charmed the room and windows to be as dark as possible. The clock on the mantelpiece said 8:30 and the face of it had a small sun just rising, so he assumed that indicated morning—unless the lycanthrope and his bride were negligent in the small details of their housekeeping duties.

He felt weary to the bone, heart and soul. He meant what he had told Rowena—he had no desire to be a martyr for the cause. But he was also tired of being the whipping boy. In spite of his regrets of things unfinished, he had almost looked forward to his death this time as a final rest, the end to his torment.

Why was he alive and why wasn't he being summoned or tortured for it?

He looked at the unfamiliar wand in his hand.

No, not unfamiliar.

Why was Rowena's wand sitting here, unattended, by his bed? His heart rate began to increase as the questions mounted with no answers. He peered at the potion bottles next to his bed.

Sedatives. Analgesics. Healing draughts. Regenerative potions, including ones specific to numerous internal organs—stomach, spleen, liver, kidney, heart, lung.

Bloody hell, he must have been a mess.

They were all neatly labeled with John Lupin's very precise handwriting and directions for use.

No, not all.

Why was there a bottle of Polyjuice potion—HIS Polyjuice potion, among the bottles on the table?

He sniffed it. He kept several bottles of the base on hand at all times, just awaiting the addition of a hair. It was almost a prerequisite for a spy. This wasn't just the muddy brown base anymore, though. It was a deep, dark blue. Where had he seen this shade of blue in Polyjuice before?

Tight bands of pressure constricted around his chest as a plethora of emotion—none of it pleasant—threatened to overwhelm him. Rage, panic, confusion—surely this did not mean what he was thinking? Who would have agreed to such a thing?

He gripped Rowena's wand tightly.

"Accio MY wand," he said with a bite of anger to his voice. He heard glass breaking in the distance and then waved her wand to open the door just as his wand zoomed through it. He pocketed Rowena's wand along with the remaining Polyjuice potion, and returned to Hogwarts.

* * *

"Severus! You're alive!" Albus' portrait jumped from his chair and if he could have come off the canvas he no doubt would have crushed the younger man in an exuberant embrace.

"Open the bloody door, Albus," Severus snapped. The door opened.

His things were in disarray—not that anyone besides Severus Snape would notice. He went straight to his private potion cupboard and immediately knew what was missing.

Two Veritaserum antidote discs. Veritaserum. Polyjuice base. A poison antidote.

"What the bloody hell has been going on here?" he raged to the empty room.

Three tiny house elves popped in almost at once, all looking at him with small mouths hanging open, huge eyes impossibly wide, ears perked up in astonishment.

"Master Sevvie! Master Sevvie, you is alive!" Henry, the most emotional of the three would have run forward and hugged him as the portrait wished to do, had Severus not spoken as soon as he saw them.

"Whom have you allowed into my private stores and why?" he asked in low, dangerous tones.

Three pairs of ears drooped as they all looked at each other guilty.

"Only the Mistress, Master. You said you is not coming back. You said we is belonging to her now. She is asking us for potions. You said anything she wants in here is hers. We is not disobeying orders, Master Sevvie—is we?" Joseph asked, wringing his hands.

"I let her in too, Severus, without the password. You did say you weren't coming back and she was to be given access to your rooms."

Anger, which had been building within him since the moment he had regained consciousness, was building to a fever pitch. Anger, his instinctive reaction to manage fear, his most familiar coping mechanism. He felt as though he were a pressure-cauldron, left too long on the fire. Soon, he would explode.

"Where is Rowena?" he asked in quiet, dangerous, smooth-as-silk tones.

"She left the castle with Remus on Wednesday. Minerva told me she'd privately arranged her course work so as not to be needed to teach the rest of the week, though the students were not to be told unless her absence became necessary." Albus said. "I believe… from bits of information I've gathered from Minerva and Remus, I believe she made arrangements to meet with Lucius Malfoy."

The molten magma, which was the volcano of his barely contained rage, erupted then, savagely.

_**CRASH!**_

He grabbed the nearest of the many glass vials lining the shelves of his quarters and hurled it violently at the portrait. It shattered spectacularly against the frame, showering the wall and a portion of the canvas in sickly orange liquid and the remnants of rat-brain.

The portrait didn't even blink. He rounded on his still-guilty looking house elves.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Numerous bottles sailed through the air toward them, though they also did not move, flinch, or duck. They merely stood there, looking exceedingly miserable. None of the projectiles struck their presumed targets, though they shattered noisily against walls and furnishings very near by. 

"Do you have any idea what you have done, you crackpot old Fool!" he snarled as he turned back to face the portrait.

"She could be dead by now!" Severus's countenance was nearly unrecognizable from the savagery of his rage. Another glass bottle shattered against the wall next to the portrait. "You let her go!"

Albus remained supremely calm and unruffled, though his tone of concern was genuine.

"Severus, my friend. I did not 'let' her go anywhere. She went on her own. I cannot be certain where she went or why. My information sources have become far more limited of late. I don't even know what she did once she was inside here." He sighed, "She warded me. I had not realized how inconvenient that is, from a portrait's standpoint."

"She went on her own?" he sneered. "I'm sure it was an 'accident' that she found out what to do? Why did she not believe I was DEAD when the rest of you seemed to?" Severus's voice was an anguished roar.

"I believe Harry…"

More flying glass and an acidly bitter sneer interrupted that statement.

"Potter… how perfect. Another chance for Boy Wonder to prove he is better than his evil Potions Master, right? He blames me for his parent's deaths. He blames me for Sirius Black's death. Hell, I think he even blames me for YOUR death—and now he will get to blame me for Rowena's…"

His voice cracked, he dropped the bottle he was preparing to throw, and slumped against the wall, his face a mask of pain and anguish. The terror which gripped him was far worse than anything he had ever experienced when it was his own life in danger. He was spiraling in a helpless vortex of savage despair.

He was out of control.

He didn't care.

Nothing he had ever faced in his darkest hours had been as bad as this. Not even close.

"Severus, she is not going to die…"

He swooped up another bottle from the shelf near where he was leaning and hurled it at the placid portrait, sick to death of listening to the shade of Albus trying to placate him. It was only slightly satisfactory when it exploded with another spectacular crash of glass and a splash of glowing greeinish-yellow liquid.

"You don't know that! And who's to say after they've had done with her she won't _wish_ she had died! You don't understand what they're capable of, Albus…"

He would have thrown another vial at the portrait, but it had swung open. To his further rage, Remus Lupin and Harry Potter were standing in the doorway, both looking grim and concerned, but worse—they both looked pityingly at HIM.

Crash! Crash! More bottles flew at the door and shattered against the doorframe. "Get out! I don't need your pity! Lupin, you can have a go at me over your sister later, not today. Potter, get out, just get out."

Lupin spoke first, his voice heavy with his own worry.

"Severus, I'm not here to have a go at you over Rowena. Merlin knows I have enough first hand experience with her to know this isn't your doing. I thought you might like an explanation…"

Crash! Another bottle broke just over Remus's head. Remus' expression of calm compassion did not alter.

"Explanation?" Severus was all but screaming in his rage, "How do you 'explain' sending a defenseless woman to face the Dark Lord? Do not patronize me! I do not want your pity, or your explanations! Get out!"

"He wasn't trying to patronize you, we want to help!" Harry piped up, trying to defend Remus. He flinched painfully when another glass bottle flew just past his right ear to shatter loudly behind him.

"I told you to get out! You can't help! Get out!"

"She wanted me to give you a message. I'm not leaving until I've done it," Harry said, defiantly. Severus' arm stopped in mid-swing in the act of throwing another bottle.

"When did you see her?" His voice dropped in volume to resume an almost normal level of dangerous menace.

"Wednesday afternoon. She came to me and said she had to go away, and you would be angry. She said I had to tell you she'd altered her spell so you could cancel it, but only you—she can't even cancel it herself anymore. She said you'd know what she meant." Harry spoke fast, while Snape was relatively calm and not throwing things, though he realized no one was that poor a shot—Snape had been deliberately missing in all his throws.

Harry had spent enough time with Rowena and inside her 'head' with Occlumency lessons to know the depth of her feelings for Snape. He found it disgusting to say the very least, but there was no denying their sincerity, even since their broken engagement.

Snape leaned against the wall again. The portrait swung closed and Dumbledore regarded the three men and the miserable looking house elves.

"Severus, sit. You are barely well enough to be walking around. This is not helping anything. Sit down."

To everyone's surprise, he did. He leaned his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Yes. I know what she means," he said. His voice had been screaming in rage moments before, but now sounded far worse as it was awash in despair. "Foolish girl! She thinks she can stand up to the Dark Lord and hide anything? Her Occlumency's not anywhere near strong enough for that…."

"I think you're wrong, Professor. She's gotten really good these last few months. She's almost as strong as me…" Harry started to say, but Severus interrupted him again with a snort of derision.

"Is that meant to comfort me, Potter? I, who know how abysmal your Occlumency is? I suppose I should thank you for your effort, but I find no comfort in it."

"Try me." Harry said, approaching his chair.

"What?" Severus looked at him incredulously.

"Try me. You have no idea how much I've learned these last few months. You haven't tried to break through in ages—you've just had me be a 'blank slate' when I connect with Voldemort. Maybe when you know how much better I've gotten, you won't be so worried about her. Try me."

"Potter, this is not a good idea. Even in my weakened state I am stronger than your best shields. And in my current mood, who knows what I would do inside your head. I appreciate the offer, surprisingly. But go play somewhere else and leave me be. You have delivered your message. Thank you. Get out."

"Severus," Albus said calmly, "I think you should try. I agree with Harry. I think you will be pleasantly surprised. And I think you could do with a bit of hope right about now."

He made a low growl of disgust, "Fine! Potter, prepare yourself and tell me when you are ready. Take your time, you will need it."

"I'm ready when you are."

"You don't even have your wand out, don't give me that rubbish," he snapped.

"I'm not going to fight you, I'm just going to keep you out."

"Impossible. Fine. Legilimens." Severus produced his wand in a blinding flick of his wrist and cast the incantation at once.

For several long minutes, the room was silent. At last Snape lowered his wand and looked at Harry as though he had never seen him before.

"Nothing. Quite remarkable. You say she is almost as strong?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "I really have to work to break through them. Lots of times I don't get through at all anymore."

"Does she know how to filter her thoughts? Did she teach you to allow only what you wish to rise to the surface?"

"Yup. Try again?"

This time Severus didn't wait or offer warning, "Legilimens".

Again silence. In a shorter time than before, Severus broke away. He stood briskly and stood silently brooding over his fire, leaning his head on his arm against the mantelpiece. He looked for all the world like a man trying to collect his emotions. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have said the Professor was trying not to cry!

"I'm sorry, Professor. I just showed you the things I had seen in her mind when we were practicing. I thought… well, I thought you'd like to see them. I didn't mean to upset you…" He had thought showing Snape how much she loved him would have been comforting, but it seemed only to make Snape feel worse. He felt awkward and embarrassed now, and went back to stand by Remus.

"Thank you," Severus said. His voice was hoarse and so quiet as to be barely audible.

Albus insisted again that he sit down. One of the house elves scurried over and provided tea for all of them. Harry looked embarrassed, but nodded at Severus when he glanced at him. Remus waved his wand to remove glass shards from the chairs and sofa in the room and guided Harry back into the room to sit as well.

"I assume since it has been stolen from my private stores, she has the Veritaserum antidote?" Snape asked at last.

"Of course she does, Severus," Remus assured him. "We can't give up hope. She's a strong woman and she went in well prepared. She had a plan, that's where Harry comes in."

He summarized it as briefly as he could and Severus' glance kept returning to Harry.

"How long has she been gone?" he asked softly.

"We went to the Malfoy's Thursday afternoon," Remus said uncomfortably.

She had already been gone two days.

"Malfoy must have been thrilled," Harry said as he met Severus' gaze unflinchingly. "She was with Voldemort in less than an hour. Nobody can touch her—they seem to get burned when they try."

Severus shook his head and snorted softly. How long would that simple charm hold up? Potter continued talking.

"She's in some kind of cell. She's had it rough, but she looks like she's holding up okay, and Voldemort hasn't seen anything. He's given her Veritaserum and questioned her quite a bit about Order stuff and about you. Sometimes he uses Legilimency when he questions her, but not very long. She's done pretty good at making him think her mind is unprotected and I keep nudging that idea back to the front of his mind, you know? So he'll think she's too weak to have to work her over too hard."

Severus nodded.

"Is she injured?"

"I can't really tell—it doesn't seem to be too bad, if she is. I mean, she walks into the room when Voldemort has someone bring her.

"The worst has been when he tried to torture her to get her to drop that spell that keeps them from touching her. I guess she expected that, so she made her spell it so even she couldn't drop it. He could see the truth of that in her mind, when she said couldn't negate it. They've been working on it, but nothing's worked so far so, when they get tired of trying, they do the Cruciatus mostly, though someone there has a big, long whip," Harry said with a shudder.

"That would be Macnair. Go on."

"I think… until they figured out they couldn't touch her, I think they planned to… er… well…" He fidgeted restlessly and his face reddened, unable to articulate the words to match the gruesome idea.

"It is called rape, Potter, and you are no doubt correct in your assumption," Severus said dully. If they negated that spell she'd invented, it was probably still in her future!

"Voldemort said something about not risking tainting pure blood and did some sort of spell at her. He pointed it at her stomach and it seemed to hurt real bad."

"Salpingeruptio?" Severus asked in the same emotionless tone.

"Yeah that sounds about right. What is it?"

"A sterilizing hex. He would not want to risk pregnancy."

"Is it reversible?" Remus asked as he listened to the exchange. Much of the information he knew already, as Harry had been keeping him informed. But with Severus here to round it out—and the dead look on the man's face—it all seemed a great deal worse.

"No idea. I believe that will depend on your father's healing skill. It is not designed to be reversible. The recipient is almost universally quite expendable. It ruptures the fallopian tubes. Potter, continue," Severus said, irritably. It was as though he had to torment himself with every detail—before he would take it out on them that she was there to begin with.

The sad little house elves were quietly cleaning the broken glass throughout the room. Albus listened with an expression of deep concern.

"Well, that's about it, mostly," Harry said. "They haven't fed her anything and they do the Cruciatus a lot, but he is trying to wear her down with time. Malfoy has mentioned a few times that she might be better alive as a hostage and I try to keep that idea toward the front, too, though he resists me with that one and I'm afraid to push too hard and have him feel me."

"Severus, can we go in after her?" Remus asked. "Is there any way we can get to where she is?"

Severus shook his head and rubbed at his left arm irritably, for once angry the Mark was quiet.

"No…" His voice broke again as he spoke, but he appeared to visibly force his emotions under control and continued quickly. "No. The Dark Lord has numerous hideouts. None of his followers know them all, and no one ever knows where he will be next. Lucius has a Portkey which always carries him to wherever the Dark Lord is, but that is a rare 'gift' he bestows only on the most 'worthy'. The Mark draws the Death Eaters to his current location. I will have no way to find him, or her, until he summons me again."

"Well, then, we wait." Albus said conversationally. "Tom has control now and he likes control. It might be a day or two yet before we hear. Minerva had the Daily Prophet announce the apparent kidnapping of our teacher as soon as Remus told her what was going on. Voldemort will like the publicity so I encouraged her to do it as soon as possible. It was in today's paper.

"Severus, you really must sleep. You will need to be in top form when it's time to go in after her. You will do her no good at all if you are in as bad shape as she is."

Severus merely glared at Albus' portrait and then continued to stare into the fire.

He worked with Harry for a while; deliberately looking at the thought patterns of the Dark Lord to see what progress had been made. He was pleasantly surprised to find the boy had seemed to manipulate the Dark Lord's thoughts with an astonishing amount of subtlety. However, he actually had been a bit too timid—again surprising considering the source—out of fear of doing too much or doing the wrong thing.

They worked together for nearly an hour, until Severus' head ached from the effort and there was simply no more they could do. Now they simply had to wait.

Eventually Remus and Harry left him alone to his misery, each with reassurances they would tell the others if they learned anything new. Harry was going to try and get some sleep while Voldemort seemed uninterested in Rowena. They were all thankful it was Saturday so that such luxuries as an afternoon kip were possible.

* * *

Severus was not certain if he fell asleep in his chair, or had just become so lost in his dark ruminations as to lose track of time. He regained full awareness as the overwhelming sensation of _Rowena_ all but exploded in his chest.

Her 'end' of the severed Bond had healed.

Now it was not just one-way, but two and he allowed his own emotion to embrace hers. Love. Relief she was alive. Longing. His sending was flavored with anger at what she had done. Her sending was flavored with fear and pain which she tried unsuccessfully to hide from his perceptivity. It only lasted a moment, before the connection was gone, either due to her unconsciousness or conscious effort to seal.

He all but jumped from his chair with restless energy—what was occurring that her end of the Bond healed just now? Harry barged into the room, unannounced, Albus regarding him apologetically from the portrait.

"He said it was an emergency and, in light of the circumstance I did not think a delay would be helpful," he said by way of explanation. Severus waved the door shut again but otherwise ignored him.

"Potter, what is happening?" he asked harshly. The boy was pale and shaken.

"They're… playing," Harry said, collapsing into a chair using the euphemism Voldemort used when he had given up trying to 'break' someone and turned them over to 'play' with his Death Eaters. "Lucius—he hit her on the head, knocked her out. That might have been a good thing…"

No doubt she was in the same position he had been in a week ago—strung up to the ceiling by his wrists while the minions struck at him with whips and staves and knives, as though he had been some sort of horrible parody of a piñata.

He had never been so anxious and eager to answer the summons as when the Dark Mark finally burned on his arm.

"Potter, tell Pomfrey to be ready to go to Grimmauld Place—but have her wait here in the private room just in case. I'll send one of my elves ahead to alert Remus and have him get his father there. Albus, you will want to inform Minerva. I still have my Portkey which arrives here. If the Dark Lord is not intending to release her, I will try and send her back with that."

Joseph popped in at that moment, to indicate he heard and understood what was expected of him, and out again in an instant. Dumbledore vanished from his portrait and Harry raced up the corridor, still barely keeping ahead of Severus urgent, sweeping strides.

It was well Garvey was a trollop. She seemed to always be gone on the weekend, so they didn't need to waste precious time in attempting to be secretive.


	53. Chapter 53: Final Battles

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

* * *

Chapter 53: Final Battles

* * *

"Ah, Severus. So prompt. I am very pleased with you. I had all but given up hope. I will expect you here on Halloween night, to serve me the first dose of your brilliant potion. I long for this body to be stronger—and immortal." 

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said, rising from his obeisance. It was with Herculean effort he did not so much as glance at the limp form hanging only a few feet away. He did not even know if she was alive.

"I would have killed your pet, but Lucius suggested if you were the one who seemed to 'rescue' her, it might increase your favor with my enemies. Do they still try to maintain the Order even without Dumbledore?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said again, clinically making note of the fact that Lucius still seemed to be at least attempting to follow through with his oath and his manipulations earlier managed to attain the desired result.

"It seems she is quite determined to 'save' herself for you. We were unable to remove whatever spell it is she used so she cannot be touched. It doesn't go away with unconsciousness. I'm not sure how you will transport her. That's your problem, though, isn't it?

"Take her and go." With a wave of his wand the bonds restraining her to the ceiling were gone and Severus heard her slump to the floor behind him.

Severus did not betray his relief she had been spared that violation at least. He turned to Rowena with bored unconcern and used the Mobilicorpus spell to get her out of the room. Once they were alone, he canceled her spell with a wave of his wand, "Finite Incantatem", scooped her carefully and gently into his arms, and Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

John Lupin greeted him at the door while one of Severus' house elves disappeared to return to Hogwarts to summon Poppy. John had to all but run to follow him as he raced to the drawing room and laid her gently upon the bed. He, like Rowena, was not as skilled as in Healing as John or the nurse, but he remained and assisted as he could to clean wounds and stop bleeding. 

The worst was a massive concussion. The skull was broken above it, but the bone had not fragmented or caused obvious injury to the brain beyond the concussion itself. The fracture might actually prove to be beneficial, as it might allow some relief of the pressure caused by the swelling, which might minimize any long-term damage—too many 'mights' and 'maybes'. It would be some days before they would know how fully she would recover.

Severus, in his diagnostic work, noted that John found and repaired the ruptured fallopian tubes. It was a minor injury in comparison with the others, but then Severus supposed there was a reason John Lupin was so well respected at St. Mungo's. He was very thorough.

When the healing was done—as much as could be managed without the simple gift of time—Poppy shooed the men out and let Tonks help her bathe Rowena and dress her in some clean pajamas. The men returned to the room when she permitted it, and the three of them settled as comfortably as possible around the bed. Becky was with Katrina in Hogsmeade—John and Remus had deliberately kept her a bit in the dark as to the seriousness of the situation so as not to worry her excessively.

Severus took a chair next to her bed, and held her hand. He was silent and implacably grave. He did not even attempt to make the pretense of unconcern. John and Remus sat on the other side of the bed. John, holding her other hand, Remus by her head with a hairbrush, gently and methodically combing out the tangles which remained after Madame Pomfrey's cleaning. When it was smooth and free of tangles, he expertly braided it in one long braid to the side of her head so that lying in bed wouldn't tangle it further. He toyed absently with the pointed tuft in his hands.

"I still find it hard to believe you actually spent all that time with your sister's hair, even having seen proof of it at your wedding," Severus said at last, needing something mundane to talk about to ease his worried mind away from her unconscious form. Remus glanced up and gave a small, tired smile.

"I complained a lot, of course. But really, I loved playing with her hair. It was the only 'affectionate' thing she let me do, she was such a tomboy. Besides, it's never cool to want to hug your sister. So playing with her hair was like our way of showing affection…"

Remus's voice broke; his sentence trailed off and he brushed a trembling hand across his face. John Lupin carried on then

"They were inseparable, those two. 'Wena was terrified of heights, so naturally she insisted on climbing trees at least twice a week. She was sure if she just kept making herself get high up off the ground, eventually the fear would simply go away. Remus always climbed up after her and talked her down—often had to carry her down.

"She's not a girl you can hold back once she sets her mind to something."

Severus gave a small, mirthless laugh, "I've noticed."

They fell again into uneasy silence, watching and waiting.

* * *

Sunday evening, John Lupin decided it was safe to move her. Poppy had more comfortable facilities at the school and Severus wanted to be able to check on her readily while still maintaining secrecy. They settled her in the comfortable, secret room in the hospital wing at Hogwarts with relative ease by using Severus' Portkey. 

Minerva maintained the story she had used while he was injured and unable to teach—that Severus was tending an ill relation—and let the St. Mungo's Potion's Master continue to take his classes. Any other time he would have been horrified at the thought of a stranger mucking about in his stores. Now, it seemed insignificant. It was enough he didn't have to leave her, at least not unless he was Summoned.

Remus came to visit multiple times a day. He would redo her braid and sit beside her awhile, talking to her. Sometimes Tonks or Katrina was with him, sometimes not. John came morning and evening, but still maintained his medical practice so he couldn't be gone long. Harry Potter stopped in at least once a day to ask if Severus needed anything, occasionally bringing him a book or the day's newspaper.

Mostly, though, he was alone, staring unseeingly at her face. The bruises were fading, her color was warm and pink, and her breathing easy. She did seem to be improving—but had not regained consciousness. It seemed so bittersweet, utterly unfair. To have gone through so much, have come so far, and feel he had still lost her.

John kept reassuring him. It had only been two days; he mustn't give up hope. However, hope, for Severus, was an even more painful thing than despair.

He stayed through the night, next to her bed, watching over her. On Tuesday night, in complete exhaustion, Severus gently climbed onto the bed beside her, sliding an arm underneath her neck so he could hold her close. Somehow she still smelled like flowers, her hair silky against his cheek.

He was awakened in the morning by gentle kisses on his mouth and face and a warm wash of deepest love through the Bond, such as he had never thought to experience again. His eyes flew open in astonishment to see her warm chocolate brown ones staring back at him.

"Does this mean you're not too angry with me?" she asked with a weak smile.

Relief washed over him, as powerful as the pain of the days before, and he crushed her against his chest. His voice was choked with emotion and he buried his face in her hair as he spoke. Her arms wound around him as though she was equally desperate to make certain he was real.

"Furious. Livid. Enraged beyond expression. If you had died I would have never forgiven you. Since you are blessedly alive, you will instead have to bear the torturous punishment of spending the rest of your life as my wife, as soon as this bloody war is over," he said gruffly.

"Deal," she said, half laughing, half crying as waves of overwhelming relief and love washed over her. The powerful emotions, shared through the healed Bond were like crashing tidal waves, each more overwhelming than the last. There WAS the tint of anger there, as she expected, but it was overshadowed by relief. She felt him shake his head and then he pulled enough away from her smothering embrace to look at her face.

"No. I did not ask you properly the first time. I suppose I ought to make the attempt this time, rather than command it—or turn it into the punishment it may well prove to be," he said with a hint of a smirk quirking one corner of his mouth. He caressed a hand over her cheek, his fathomless black eyes searching hers. "Will you marry me, Rowena?"

She hugged him tighter and nodded, for a moment her voice utterly lost from the emotion constricting her throat. She gave up trying to restrain it so that it gushed forth in sobs of laughter.

"Of course! Yes!"

He sought her lips, drinking in her kisses, savoring the taste of her, even the saltiness of her tears. He allowed himself to both give and receive the flood of emotion through the healed Bond—among them a great surge of joy and relief as he had never experienced before. Not only did he have something to live for—but it actually appeared as though he might get to fully experience it.

"Did it work?" she asked at last, holding him close and nuzzling her nose along his neck, licking at the limited portion of his throat she could reach around the high collar. "Did we do it? He's going to take the potion?"

"Yes, you reckless idiot. I have slowly gleaned information as to how you did what you did, but yes, it worked. You lied to my house elves, deceived my portrait, stole from my potion stores—and it worked."

"I most certainly did not—you gave them to me, so at the time they were MY house elves, and you told Albus…"

"Did you bother to enlighten them I was still ALIVE at the time you were thieving?"

"No, but…"

"Slytherin, through and through," he said shaking his head, "With perhaps a tad too much Gryffindor…"

"Remus said I ought to have been a Marauder," she giggled.

"Now _that_ sounds insulting," he said sardonically, before silencing her again with another devouring kiss.

* * *

When she was well enough to leave the hospital wing, Severus himself transported her directly back to Grimmauld Place. 

"You are to live here until this mess is over," he said imperiously. She, of course, had the audacity to look outraged and clearly intended to argue.

"I have told my associates you recall enough of what happened to you to be too frightened to return to Hogwarts." He held up a hand to stay her protests," It is assumed I Oblivated you, badly. It is much more difficult to do with an unconscious target. You will be SAFE here, Rowena. I am going to make it clear I have no idea where you are. You've done enough. We both have. I won't risk it again."

Through the Bond she could _feel_ his love, but also his fear and his desperate need to protect her.

He had all but carried her into the house and up to the room she used before, next to Katrina's. She was well enough to walk, but she was still stiff and sore and tired very easily. She'd be on a regimen of potions for a few weeks, just as he still was from his injuries. Once in the room he gently deposited her on the bed and paced the room as he gave his directives.

"Additionally," he said with a sly glint in his eye, "if you are here, then I do not have to concern myself with intrusive students when I want to be with my fiancée."

To his complete delight, she _blushed_.

He closed the door then stalked back toward the bed and crawled up onto it. He was not quite laying on top of her—concerned, perhaps still for her injuries—but one strong, muscular thigh slipped between hers as his chest crushed her into the bed. In an instant his mouth and hands began to wreak havoc with her senses. She sighed softly against the heat of his lips and his tongue immediately pressed its advantage. Molten, caressing strokes of lips and teeth and tongue. Desire ignited like lightning, fed through the Bond which was so miraculously healed. Hot, honeyed kisses slid slowly down her sensitive throat and neck, only to return to nip and suck at her ears and lips.

He had had this precious gift once before and it was nearly destroyed—he nearly destroyed it. To lose it again would destroy _him_.

"Rowena," he said huskily, his breathing ragged and his hardness pressing hot and tempting against her thigh. "Rowena, you must promise me you will stay in this house."

How he could think of such a thing when her body was on fire, her hips arching to make contact with that delicious hardness, was beyond her. But he was thinking of it and she could feel the taint of his fear through the Bond. Moreover, the truth of the matter was, the ordeal had terrified her.

She knew she was lucky to be alive; somehow You-Know-Who had never really tested her Occlumency very vigorously or she would not have been able to hold out. That might have ruined everything. She had no way of knowing WHY he hadn't tested her more thoroughly, though she assumed it was Severus and Harry's manipulations through Harry's connection which convinced the psychopath there was 'nothing to see'.

She didn't want to have to face that again herself. It was perhaps very cowardly, but she just couldn't do it. To stay safe and sound inside this house with Katrina while the war raged outside sounded pretty damn fine from where she was sitting… er… laying.

"Conditions," she managed to say breathlessly, quirking a teasing grin up at him.

"Which are?" he said warily, raising a brow and leaning away enough to look into her face.

"One, you come at the bare minimum of once a week, for at least an hour and kiss me like this," she said, ticking off her 'conditions' by holding up fingers of the hand which had been entwined in his hair moments before. "Two, I get reports from SOMEBODY twice a day as to what is going on. It doesn't have to be you, but don't go telling people NOT to tell me things. Three, we get married as soon as humanly possible after that monster is dead. And last but not least, no more attempts at Gryffindor heroics. You already ARE my hero, I want you to live long enough I get a good long 'rest of our lives' to prove it."

He bent his head and kissed her, suckling on her lower lip, worrying at it with his teeth as he had often seen her do herself.

"One, I suppose I can manage," he said dryly before kissing her again.

"Two, you will be living in Headquarters with the werewolf and the Auror, you will probably know more than I will as it is." Again his mouth claimed hers hungrily.

"Three, I negotiate to state we get married as soon as humanly possible after the monster is dead AND his most dangerous minions are adequately dealt with. He is the primary danger, but I will take no risks." This had been stated with a more 'business like' air, but was still followed by a passionate kiss, as though her kisses were more vital to him than air.

"Finally, I fear we will argue a great deal if you insist on being insulting. No one has ever accused me of Gryffindor traits; I will not permit you to start." She was grinning up at him, clearly struggling not to laugh. He rewarded her levity with his best haughty glare, which had the desired effect—in that she dissolved into giggles at once.

He smiled at her and then resumed his attentions to her body until he had successfully kissed her breathless again. It was the most delicious feeling in the world, to have her so warm and pliant, returning his kiss with the eager abandon he had feared never to know again.

"Thank Merlin!" he said with exaggerated relief as he sat up at the edge of the bed suddenly, a good deal of time later.

"What?" She asked dazedly, looking up at him, her eyes dark and glazed with the heat of desire, her lips pink and swollen from his kisses, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breathing.

"An hour. My time is up. I fear that will get to be quite a chore. Once a week was the condition? I don't know how I will manage," he said, smirking at her.

"Oh! You!" she grabbed her pillow and swung it at him, but he ducked easily.

"Yes, me. I did agree to your conditions, I am merely trying to abide by them."

She was laughing as she sat up next to him and leaned against his shoulder. It really was a good idea the kissing stopped. She didn't need to ask to know he would not make love to her until they were married again, and too much more of that frustration would have her quite mad. A little, though, was lovely.

"I do need to return to Hogwarts. I will have Minerva send the papers which will cancel your class. If you truly enjoyed it so much, perhaps you can teach again when the war is over."

"Just so you know, I'm not signing anything until I've read it back to front," she said warningly and, though she meant it to be teasing, he flinched.

"A very wise decision when tangling your life with a Slytherin," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it so she knew he wasn't angry at the reminder.

His other hand reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring, the one he had given her almost exactly a year before, when they were married. He turned it in his fingers so it sparkled in the candlelight of the room, and was pleased to notice the fire inside the stone was flaring brightly once again. He hadn't been aware fire diamonds responded to the emotions of the wearer or the purchaser in that way, but apparently they did.

"I did not know if you would prefer a new ring, as we start afresh, or if you were fond of this one," he said. The feeling she received from him through the Bond was of a hint of uncertainty.

"You've still got it," she said in wonder. "I figured you'd get rid of it, or maybe not even bother to find it. I was embarrassed after I threw it at you and tried to find it later but I couldn't."

"My ferret found it. Of course I still have it," he said with amusement. "I had thought to give it to this other woman I've developed a fancy for, but she seems to have a deplorable habit of shagging just about anything that has the appropriate bits."

She squealed with laughter and pretended outrage as she shoved his shoulder slightly with her own.

"Don't you even joke about giving that Garvey woman my ring!" she said indignantly and held out her left hand regally. He gently took her hand in his and slid the ring on her delicate finger. The emotion through the bond was of deep, tender love bordering on reverence. The possessive flash in his eyes as he looked up at her nearly made her breathless all over again.

"No, Lupin, _MY_ ring. You are mine. I will have no other."

* * *

The end of the war was almost anticlimactic after that, at least for Rowena. She was a little impatient, as she had rather expected You-Know-Who to drink the potion on Halloween and then do some grandiose attack at once, so she would surely be married before the end of November. It wasn't quite THAT slick. 

She passed the time cheerfully enough, as there were always Order members passing through, just as Severus had said. She got to be with Katrina almost constantly, and the stolen moments of heated kisses came with even more than the 'agreed upon' regularity. Owl Order catalogs sufficed to soothe her urge to 'shop' for things she wanted for the wedding, including her dress, though for now all she did was look. He had said he wanted her to plan for her 'fairy tale' ceremony, and he would 'attempt to endure' it. She still giggled at the pained look on his face—as if she would truly torment him with Albus' cherubs!

Minerva carefully packed all her things from the school and gave them to her parents in Hogsmeade. Her father then made a point to bring at least one shrunken trunk full on each visit to the house, until soon he had brought everything she owned, including Vixen. No one outside the Order seemed any the wiser as to where she went, so Severus' mandate as to her safety was obeyed to the letter.

The potion apparently gave the best result if consumed once daily for precisely one complete moon cycle. Severus personally 'served' each dose. He often stopped to see her after such visits and, while she could tell they were stressful for him, he also seemed inordinately pleased with himself. Pride and satisfaction were definitely a good 'look' for him.

While the school was not suddenly and viciously attacked, the Wizarding World at large seemed to continue to be so. She discovered to her dismay, with Gringotts 'closed' it was impossible to order the things she was choosing from the catalogs, even had she wished to. People still disappeared inexplicably in the midst of floo travel—those few people still foolish enough to use the floo network. Apparition and Portkey use had increased as modes of travel, so there was also a dramatic jump in splinching accidents.

All in all it was with a mingled sense of fear and relief when Remus and Tonks had to leave suddenly late at night in the middle of December to rush to Hogwarts.

The final attack had begun.

* * *

It started out as a kind of siege of sorts, giving the Order and Ministry far more time than was wise to heighten defenses and counter-attack. The Ministry even sent out an all-Wizarding Distress call to any country in which they had ambassadors. Wizards from all over the world came to help defeat Europe's greatest enemy. 

The thing—whatever it was exactly—which Albus had done in the act of sacrificing his life, seemed to successfully make Hogwarts all but impenetrable. Death Eaters worked tirelessly to try to penetrate the wards, moving to attempt a new location every few days. Albus' portrait merely smiled knowingly, even when Severus pointed out with exasperation that it was entirely worthless for him to make a potion to make the Dark Lord more vulnerable to Potter's unique defense, if Potter was so well protected as to be unable to NEED the defense.

For the first time since she had regained consciousness, Severus failed to make his 'once a week' visit to see her at Grimmauld Place. They communicated often in emotional touches through their Bond. She understood, she was not upset, she wasn't going to do anything stupid, but he still felt out of sorts to go so long without being with her.

Ministry and Order wizards regularly attacked and harried the Death Eaters, with little result. They were surrounded by a completely mobile, completely loyal defensive perimeter of Dementors and Giants. The Dementors were utterly destroyed whenever they accidentally came into contact with the wards in a brilliant, spectacular explosion of red-gold light, as though the sun itself swallowed them up. Severus internally tipped his hat to his deceased mentor. The giants were uninjured by the wards, but no amount of pummeling seemed to damage them in the least. So they merely formed an almost impenetrable wall around the working Death Eaters. Minor skirmishes occurred continually.

Why, though? There weren't enough Death Eaters out there to come close to the number Severus believed the Dark Lord to have. Where were the others?

By mutual agreement, after the ordeal in October Severus had instructed Harry not to access the Dark Lord's thoughts unless Severus was present, and they believed it to be an emergency. As it is, what they had done had been exceedingly dangerous. Severus did not want to risk getting 'caught'. He was utterly unwilling to repeat the nightmare.

Now that the potion cycle was over and the Death Eaters were behaving in an inexplicable fashion it seemed it was time to go and have a look.

* * *

There they were. Throngs of white-masked, black-cloaked figures. The dim room seemed to be crawling with them like rats in a sewer. 

Except there were rats as well and it did look like a…

"The Chamber of Secrets!" Harry groaned, breaking the connection and slapping a hand over his forehead, momentarily hiding the angry red scar which ached so continually now he had long since ceased to whinge about it.

"Are you certain?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded. Severus turned to look at Albus' portrait. They seemed to gravitate to his sitting room when they did this, at least in part because they both felt comforted by the realistic image of the man who had meant so much to them.

"Was this intentional?" he asked dryly.

The portrait Albus actually chuckled.

"Oh, yes. I'm afraid it was. The protection will still be in effect—which it wouldn't be if you went outside the walls—but it is also weakest there because it couldn't penetrate very far into the earth, which makes it the natural place for him to try to get through. That and the fact he's very proud of himself for finding it to begin with and feels it's his birthright to 'own' the Chamber. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been using it to some degree or another since his rebirth."

"And this is a matter for amusement because…?" Severus asked, rubbing his temples with fatigue.

"Because, the only way to get into the school from the Chamber is the tunnel—you need to go show him, Harry. It's very steep and at best would only allow two or three people at a time. A handful of decent wizards could hold it indefinitely, so it doesn't really matter it's the weak spot, because it isn't so weak," Albus said patiently.

"You were planning of notifying someone of this planned weakness, when?" Severus asked with mounting annoyance.

"Well, now seems like a good time," the portrait said, selecting a lemon sherbet from the bag on the table in the painting. "If I had told anyone before, it might have gotten leaked somewhere and then the trap wouldn't be a trap now, would it?"

"Wow! You planned all this all that time? That's brilliant," said Harry, grinning at the Headmaster's portrait. Albus winked at him, blue eyes a-twinkle even on the canvas.

"Do NOT encourage him, Potter," Severus snarled. "Come, show me this tunnel."

* * *

It was no great effort to use the small Anti-Apparition ward gap in the tunnel under the Whomping Willow to gradually trickle in reinforcements. These included a great many Aurors, all the Order members, and volunteer combat personnel, some of whom were from other countries. These last first had to pass Moody's rigorous 'clearance'. The Willow was far enough from the walls the Death Eaters working outside them would be unable to see the arrival of the reinforcements. Sprout used weather charms to keep a heavy fog over the area to increase the secrecy. 

"Sev! Howdy! Betcha didn't reckon on seein' me again so soon, eh?"

Dylan Howard strode forward, beaming brightly, spurs a-jangle and white hat lacking only a bulls-eye target in Severus' opinion.

"No, Howard, I did not, but then I ought not to have depended on the Fates to be that kind to me. I have been granted enough miracles in my life as of late, it would seem," he said dryly as he stood inside the doors to the heavily warded staff corridor, 'welcoming' the new arrivals. He was handing out castle maps, lodging assignments, and strategic planning meeting times.

Another man, not as tall as Howard but still clearly a 'cowboy', stepped around him and Severus raised a brow at this man's appearance of cool anger.

He also bore a striking resemblance to Lucius Malfoy—if Malfoy would ever be caught dead in faded denim jeans, a plaid shirt with mother-of-pearl snaps and tarnished silver bolo tie.

This cowboy's sleek blond hair was restrained in a ponytail with some sort of beaded leather band. It was the white-blond of hours spent in the sun and the man appeared a good deal younger than Lucius. The ice gray eyes were identical, though Lucius would never allow his to peer out from skin that tanned and weather-beaten. Still, the resemblance in the face and demeanor was pronounced.

"You have a problem with Dylan comin' all the way here to help you out when he's barely back on his feet? Who the hell are you?" This man asked with a tone of arrogance of which Lucius would not have been ashamed. His accent was less thick than Howard's and he had less of the air of deliberate laziness.

"Josh, this is Severus. You r'member, I told ya about him. He's friends with that fella, Luke that looks so much like you. Severus, this here's my partner, Josh," Dylan said, taking the other man by the hand with a strange sort of smile on his face.

Severus handed them both the requisite papers with a very small nod.

"Delighted, I'm sure. You are partners? I assume that means you can hold a wand? Howard appeared to be tolerably skilled when he was not eyeing all the females within ten years of his age."

The one called 'Josh' laughed at this and the two cowboys exchanged a look and a smile which was utterly incongruous with what Severus thought he understood about the one man at the very least.

"Sev, I'm right sorry. I oughtta've told ya before, but I admit… I was havin' a hoot makin' ya jealous about Rowena. Josh's my _partner_. I dunno how it is 'round here, but they don't let two fellas marry where we come from…"

A look of sudden comprehension flashed across Severus' glittering black eyes and he raised a hand up to halt the explanation.

"I see. Spare me the details. Fascinating though your… situation… must be, I do not wish to hear it. I have grown far too used to fun at my expense to take exception now on the brink of war. If you are here to fight, you are both welcome. Please excuse me, I have work to do."

"D'ya work everythin' out with Rowena, then?" Dylan asked.

"What makes you say that?" Severus sneered, "Not that it is any of your business."

"Well, I reckon you were plumb near ready t'skin me alive b'fore I got on that train. I don't s'pose you'd be takin' the joke so easy if things hadn't been patched up."

For a moment, Severus was actually appalled to realize Howard was right. A year ago, hell, a month ago, he would have been incredibly angry. Now, he merely saw the amusement in the situation. He raised a brow, and his sneer turned into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Are you angling for an invitation to the wedding, Howard? I suppose you will have to bring your 'partner' as well? I will attempt to remember to ask Rowena to add you to the list."

He turned on his heel and walked haughtily away in an impressive swish of billowing robes, as Dylan and Josh whooped their congratulations after him.

* * *

To Severus annoyance, the attack and defense occurred precisely as smoothly as Albus predicted. For days, Death Eaters trickled up the tunnel, sometimes invisible or disillusioned, but never made it out of the room. The female ghost who claimed to 'own' one of the toilets whinged continuously about the noise and the gore, but she never went away. 

Eventually, however, the trickle stopped. Not because they were out of Death Eaters, but because they realized their grand plan wasn't working.

Now was the time for Harry to make his presence known. It was HIS turn to send messages and images to Voldemort, and let him consciously KNOW that the messages were from him. Taunting. Goading. Tempting.

Voldemort wanted Harry to come down and face him in the 'Chamber of my Ancestors'.

Eventually, Harry agreed. This was what they had been waiting for, and the forces inside the castle planned a massive attack on the Death Eaters outside, to draw away as many of the Death Eaters as possible, to make Voldemort fight on two fronts.

There was a bit of a row, internally, over this plan. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger stubbornly insisted that they be included in the small party which would accompany Potter into the Chamber. This was flat-out refused, and they raised a fuss, with arguments and pleadings, pointing out all the times they had helped Potter in the past.

It was Potter himself who made them realize the logic of why they could not come. Potter _reasoning_ with anyone was so astounding that Severus thought perhaps the apocalypse was truly upon them.

"You can't come, guys," Harry said, firmly, after hours of discussion. "Voldemort knows you're my best friends. If you show up, he'll attack you first, and there won't be anything I can do to protect you. That's how he works. I'm not letting Remus come, either.

"You guys need to lead the DA on the counter attack. That will help me a lot more than worrying about you down in the Chamber. I can't do what I need to do if I'm worrying about you."

The simple fact was so irrefutable, they had to relent at last.

Voldemort, in his insane megalomania, insisted the Death Eaters remaining in the Chamber with him could only 'observe' because he wanted the final thrill of killing Harry at last. Voldemort believed himself to be invincible now from the potion, so sent the majority of his forces out to fight when the counterattack began full force outside. He kept only enough to be witnesses to his victory.

Harry faced him with a handful of Order Members he had chosen himself—deliberately choosing those of whom he was not believed to be excessively fond. Moody, McGonagall, Snape, and Kingsley. Remus wanted to come, but was refused for the same reasons as Ron and Hermione. Besides, he was needed to lead the forces outside. Voldemort was simultaneously delighted and suspicious that Snape was among the group. Harry's escort was also supposed to witness, not interact.

The Dark Lord began to talk. At length. About his greatness, his invulnerability, his power, his loyal minions, his plans for world domination, the perfection of his plan to get Harry at last…

Severus knew from experience he could go on for hours.

He also knew from experience Potter had the attention span of a Niffler in a diamond mine.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it. You're really awesomely powerful and I'm a weak kid with an incredible amount of luck which has finally run out—right about the time that you started trying to bore me to death. Got it. I understand. Why don't you prove it now, instead of yapping about it, because honestly, you've got the most annoying voice I've ever heard. I'd rather be dead than listen to another word."

Severus also knew from experience Potter knew just how to really make a bloke angry. He resisted the temptation to slap a hand over his face in hopeless weariness. He hadn't managed to train Potter out of his Gryffindor recklessness after all.

Well, the plan had been to duel with him for a while, first, to give Potter's protection from his mother a chance to 'recharge' from the energy the Dark Lord expended on the curses…. He had known all along Potter would have to muck it up somewhere along the way. He was actually surprised it had taken this long for him to do it, and savagely disappointed he had to ruin the most important part of the plan, rather than something stupid and meaningless earlier.

He braced himself to have to grab Potter's body and fight his way out of here—all five of them had Portkeys for quick transport back into the castle, but there would be wandfire everywhere the minute Potter died.

"Avada Kedavra!" shrieked the Dark Lord, predictably.

Potter didn't die. The green light shot toward him and seemed to hit him, except that he just stood there looking bored and slightly angry as he became surrounded by a vivid aura of brilliant red-gold light.

Dumbledore. Dumbledore had provided the energy needed!

The Dark Lord's eyes widened with fear and surprise—everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Severus could almost SEE Potter lazily gather the energy which had just been thrown at him, as easily and carelessly as though scooping up snow to make a snowball. Suddenly it shot back in a perfect arc of red-gold; it struck the Dark Lord full in the chest, like a bolt of lightning. The handful of Death Eaters in the room clutched their arms. Some screamed. Severus merely hissed—he had been expecting the pain.

But Voldemort also wasn't dead. Inhuman eyes blinked as the skeletally thin chest fought for air and the wand aimed back at Harry.

"Crucio!"

But the word was barely intelligible, a garbled hiss, and nothing happened. Nothing at all. Voldemort shook his wand like a Muggle thermometer, as though to get the magic out of it, but his skeletally thin legs would no longer support him and he fell to his knees to the ground.

"What have you done?" he scraped out.

Potter was grinning. _GRINNING_.

"I think you are now officially a Muggle, mate," he said with barely restrained laughter. "Or do you get to count as a Squib because you used to have magic? I heard Professor Dumbledore tell you once there are worse things than death, and you didn't believe him. How do you feel about that now?"

Moody and Kingsley had bathed the room in an anchoring charm the instant they realized that the Curse hadn't killed Harry. It was a gamble, because it would affect them as well, but no one could Apparate or Portkey away. Moody began confiscating wands with a summoning charm when the Death Eaters became confused and disoriented, first, at the unexpected pain of the Mark on their arms and then, at the sight of the husk which had once contained their powerful Master, sobbing on the floor in front of Potter.

The Boy Who Lived Again.

* * *

A/N: More chapters coming soon--they are written, just waiting for beta'ing and editing. Will be posted before Friday's release of HBP! 


	54. Chapter 54: Recovery and Revelations

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

* * *

Chapter 54: Recovery and Revelations

* * *

_**HARRY POTTER DOES IT AGAIN!**_

_Article and Photos exclusive property of **The Daily Prophet**._

_By Rita Skeeter_

_Yesterday, December 10, 1997, Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world for the last sixteen years, once again proved himself worthy of that title. Our esteemed Ministry of Magic, which has spent the last three years assuring us it was 'doing everything possible' to protect the community, arrived only after Harry had faced You-Know-Who and emerged victorious._

"_I had a lot of help, though," Harry Potter insists modestly. "My friends were a great support and if not for Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, I'd never have been able to do it."_

_Albus Dumbledore, brilliant but eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts met his demise at the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in September. Harry Potter insists this was a deliberate sacrifice similar to what his mother did sixteen years before. Severus Snape, 38, is currently Potions Master at Hogwarts School, though he was accused of Dark Activity shortly before Albus Dumbledore hired him amidst a cloud of suspicion nearly eighteen years ago._

_Young Harry's description of the event is remarkably self-effacing._

"_I didn't want to have to kill anyone. even (- - - - - - - - -). Brave young Mr. Potter freely says the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Prophet editors will leave you to fill in the blank. Dumbledore and Snape knew that. Snape made this brilliant potion to make it so (- - - - - - - - -) 's magic wouldn't work properly against me. I'm awful at potions; he'd have to explain it. _

"_Then Dumbledore made it so when I held all that energy, I could change it. I don't really know how I did that part. I suppose because I changed my intention of the magic, like one of my other Professors tried to explain to me. Anyway, when I bounced it back to him, it just sucked out his magic, but didn't kill him._

"_I didn't want to be a murderer."_

_Having turned the Great and Evil You-Know-Who into nothing more than a Sickly Squib before lunch, Harry Potter found himself face to face with dozens of members of our illustrious Ministry of Magic. Our Ministry officials seemed to feel now the threat of You-Know-Who was gone, it was time to round up his followers in a pathetic attempt to appear to have done something meaningful._

_Alastor Moody, the mad ex-Auror, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, a current Auror, arrested a dozen Death Eaters—and of course You-Know-Who himself, in the immediate aftermath of You-Know-Who's defeat. _

_Other Aurors and many members of the secret group known as The Order of the Phoenix, founded by Albus Dumbledore during the last war, battled Death Eaters, Giants and Dementors outside the school while valiant young Harry faced You-Know-Who within. _

_The Ministry has long disdained the Order of the Phoenix as 'Vigilantes who believe themselves to be above the law, or worse, a law unto themselves'. The Wizarding Public today finds itself grateful such 'Vigilantes' exist._

A photograph of Voldemort, crumpled in a sobbing heap at Harry's feet, appeared here, Moody, Kingsley, and Severus clearly visible behind Harry.

_Young Mr. Potter humbly raves at length about the people who have aided him. This bit of insistence helped diffuse what promised to be a horrible scene at Hogwarts yesterday evening._

_The Ministry belatedly sent a large contingent of officials to the school to begin flamboyant arrests of the already subdued Death Eaters, as though they had participated in their defeat. These officials, in the course of their blustering, attempted to arrest Professor Severus Snape in spite of the protests of the standing Headmistress and current professors, as well as those of Harry Potter. Apparently Professor Snape was being accused of being a Death Eater himself. _

Here a photograph of Severus standing with an appearance of calm unconcern while Minerva and Harry apparently shouted themselves hoarse and red in the face at Ministry Officials waving documents at them.

_Some semblance of calm was restored by the sudden arrival of werewolf Remus Lupin, 38, former Defense Professor and former school-mate of Professor Snape. He was blood-stained from his own heroic actions in battle but paid no attention to his own injuries as he sought to prevent further Ministry bungling.. He carried a Pensieve, and all the officials were invited to look into it, though Alastor Moody's persuasion no doubt helped speed the process along._

_This Reporter was not given a glimpse of the contents of the Pensieve, so we can only guess as to the information contained within. However, the Ministry bureaucrats left the scene at once with the Pensive in hand, and **The Daily Prophet** can exclusively reveal Professor Severus Snape will be presented with The Order of Merlin, First Class, for bravery and heroics far above and beyond the call of duty._

The article continued in the same vein for pages, exaggerating the bungling of the Ministry and the heroism of the 'rebel vigilantes' with the colorful flair only Rita Skeeter could attain. It included numerous photographs as well. Severus was acutely dismayed to find HIS face in many of them. He did not appreciate all the extra attention it called to himself, including a tremendous volume of mail—some of which could no doubt get him into a great deal of trouble with Rowena.

* * *

Never would he have imagined the end, when it came, would be so clean and complete. 

The battle outside the school grounds between Voldemort's minions and the Order of the Phoenix—and many of the students from Potter's "D.A."—was savagely fought, yet brief. There were very few injuries inside Hogwarts' walls, though the offensive did what it was intended to do and forced Voldemort to send all the forces he could spare to the counter-attack.

Additional back-up Aurors and Order personnel came to collect the Death Eaters who were trying to escape. They then drove the Dementors into the school wards as it seemed a quick and easy way to get rid of them at last. Hagrid and Grawp escorted the Giants away rather than have them be exterminated. The Ministry was not happy about that particular development, but as it did rid them of the problem of the Giants with relative ease in a chaotic situation, they turned a blind eye.

Gringotts reopened on the second day after the war and the Goblins immediately resumed business as usual, dickering over 'fair compensation' for the time it was closed and the hardship it caused. None of which prevented the Wizarding populace from spending gold extravagantly for the Christmas Holiday.

"Pappi!" Katrina squealed when he walked in the door—the front door, in the middle of the day, from the pavement below. She would have flung herself at him to be picked up, if his arms were not currently laden with packages.

"Nein, Frechdachs," he chided softly. "Severus, or Uncle Severus, remember?"

"Did you bring me presents?" she asked, ignoring him with an innocent smile.

"Now, why would I bring you presents?" he asked haughtily, and she jumped up and down, giggling.

"'Cause you helpted Harry win the war, so you're a hero. Mutti says you a'ways been a hero, but now eve'ybody else knows it too. She says we have to cele… cele… have a party," she said, talking a mile a minute.

"Mutti? _Tonks_ said that?" he asked her with a raise of his brow. She sighed and rolled her eyes precociously.

"No, my Ro'ena. She said I could call her that. Ro'ena's hard to say."

"Hmmm, and have you bothered to tell her what it MEANS, Frechdachs?" he asked sternly. She shrugged and skipped down the hall to the drawing room.

"C'mon, we're doin' the Chris'mas tree."

Sure enough, all of the Lupins, including Becky and John, were in the drawing room. Christmas carols played over the wireless as they slowly but spectacularly transformed the room with glittering tinsel and decorations. The tree was enormous and stood in front of the window, though the Fidelius Charm would prevent onlookers from the pavement being able to appreciate the effect.

He set his packages on the table near the sofa and Katrina immediately began to go through them. She wrinkled her nose in boredom at the bottles of wine and various holiday foodstuffs, but at last gave a cry of delight as she found several presents wrapped in paper covered with a pattern of Father Christmas and his sleigh.

Rowena turned from where she stood on a low step stool, hanging an angel on a branch.

"Severus!" she cried, succeeding in throwing herself into his arms as she leapt off the stool at him, and hugged him tightly.

"All I've heard the last three days is the rubbish in the paper!" She said accusingly. "Did they really try to arrest you? I should have sent Albus' Pensieve with Remus from the start."

"Yes, they made the attempt. It was not unexpected. It is resolved." He allowed the hug briefly before primly stepping away. He greeted her more warmly—and more privately—through the Bond. He was acutely aware of Remus and Tonks exchanging knowing looks and deliberately trying not to look at them.

Becky was setting out cheese and crackers and various fruits and finger-foods on a long table she had brought into the room for the purpose. John Lupin was surveying his family with a contented smile, sitting on the other sofa in the room, which had doubled as an emergency hospital bed frequently over the previous two and a half months. They smiled a warm welcome at him, though did not interrupt their conversation.

"Why do you allow Katrina to call you 'Mutti'?" he asked.

"She asked if she could. Why? Does it matter? What does it mean?" Rowena asked curiously.

"It means mother, or more specifically mummy. I do not think it is wise to…"

"Severus, mate, it doesn't matter to us what she calls you, why make a fuss?" Remus cut in, unable to pretend he hadn't overheard. "It's Christmas. Open one of those bottles of wine and come help us decorate the tree."

"Why not use magic to hang them? It would be far more expeditious," Severus said, though he did retrieve the wine bottles and summon glasses. John came over to help distribute them and clasped him briefly on the shoulder in silent greeting.

"Faster, sure, but not nearly so much fun," said Remus, smiling.

"And it doesn't pay any attention to the artistry of the end creation," Rowena said, grinning at him and selecting another ornament from a huge chest. She looked at the ornament carefully, then stood back and regarded the tree with equal intensity. At last she seemed to select a branch which met her approval, and hung the ornament. "You see? There's aesthetics involved as well."

Remus burst out laughing.

"Artistry? Aesthetics? Rowena, what are you on about?"

"Shh, Remus, you'll spoil the secret," Rowena said, laughing. "He won't participate if he thinks it's just for 'fun'. You have to make him think it's work, the more odious the better, with a specifically defined goal—then he might do it."

Severus smirked at this interesting if fairly accurate perception of his character. Just to prove her wrong, he selected an ornament from the box—and hung it.

* * *

The tree was decorated, the fire burning low, and Katrina had fallen asleep on one of the squashy chairs. Her insistence to be allowed to open her presents now, rather than wait until Christmas, had been steadfastly refused. No amount of pouting or eyelash batting altered the outcome, though apparently the attempt eventually fatigued her. Remus carried her upstairs while the three women gathered the remains of the food and dishes and headed to the kitchen. 

John Lupin seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to speak with Severus alone, and did not waste this one.

"How are you doing, Severus?" he asked; and his gentle but 'professional' tone suggested the inquiry was not an idle one, but specific to his health.

"I am quite recovered, Mr. Lupin, I thank you," he replied very formally. He was suddenly acutely aware that Rowena was this man's daughter and he was likely due for some sort of fatherly 'talk'—or rather long OVER-due considering their history.

He was not incorrect in this assumption.

"I am glad to hear it. The sorts of injuries you've sustained, well, sometimes there are residual problems for years afterwards. You let me know if you are having any trouble, you hear?" John said, still fully in his 'Healer' mode.

"Yes, sir," Severus said respectfully. He had not missed the echoing formality in the Lupin patriarch's tone, nor the fact the gregariously friendly man had not insisted yet again for Severus to call him 'John'.

Severus was intimately aware of the 'residual problems' of which the man spoke. He had long lived with the constant ache of abused muscles and joints caused by the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. Rowena's spell had eased that tremendously, but it was not the only source of discomfort. His innate stoicism developed from a lifetime of physical pain and abuse made these problems seem very minor.

John Lupin's shift from 'Healer' to 'Father' was instantaneous and almost visible.

"I see my daughter again wears your ring. I believe congratulations are in order."

"Thank you. I assure you I am profoundly aware of my good fortune," Severus said cautiously. "I believe tradition suggests I ought to have asked your permission…"

John interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

"You know enough of my daughter by now to know nothing I could say would alter her choice. She'd probably hex us both if she thought I was insisting on such a thing."

Severus smirked in agreement, but remained silent and attentive.

"On the other hand, I won't deny I'm concerned about her. She's been through a great deal in the past year after living a relatively quiet and sheltered life before. She's sacrificed a lot. I don't want to see her hurt anymore."

"Then our goals are the same, Mr. Lupin," Severus said, gravely meeting the friendly brown eyes of the other man. "I would not knowingly cause or allow hurt to be caused to her if there was any way I could prevent it."

John offered a sad smile, which immediately set off alarms for Severus, so his black eyes bored into the older man intently.

"Sometimes there are hurts we can't prevent, though, aren't there?" John said regretfully. "She let me run some diagnostics today, just to see how well she had recovered from her ordeal in October."

A muscle jumped in Severus' tightly clenched jaw, but he made no move to interrupt the other man.

"She seems to have recovered perfectly—except for one thing, which she insists is 'no big deal'. There's quite a bit of scar tissue in the fallopian tubes. I don't know how complete the damage is, but I think it's very likely she is sterile."

Severus sat in rigid silence. The gravity of John Lupin's countenance had caused him to fear something life threatening, so he was greatly relieved it was not. On the other hand, in spite of all her assurances to the contrary, he had seen enough of her interaction with children to know she had hoped to have children of her own. Indeed, if he was completely honest with himself, he had lately come to consider the possibility of children with less distaste than ever before.

His life was full of such ironies—to realize he wanted a thing just when the thing became beyond his grasp.

"I understand."

John nodded and stood up. He paused on his way out of the room to clasp Severus' shoulder again.

"Rowena is as happy as I've ever seen her. I know she loves you and I know how hard you've tried to protect her. You kids deserve to move on and leave all this nastiness behind you. I'm sorry this shadow had to fall across your happiness now. She may be a grown woman, strong-willed as they come, but she's still my little girl. I want her to have the best 'happily ever after' possible."

He didn't wait for Severus' response, but left the room quickly to leave the young man some privacy.

* * *

Late that night she sat curled up against him on the sofa, contentedly leaning her head against his shoulder. She felt sleepy and mellow from the wine and the celebrating. She had enjoyed spending the evening with all her family and Severus very much. He exchanged pointed barbs with her brother, but by now everyone had come to accept his snark as a part of him, so it was a source of humor rather than pain. It was almost cozy. 

It was also a strange feeling to not have the war to worry about anymore.

"What happened to Lucius?" she asked sleepily, as he indulgently answered her questions piecing together the end days.

"He was one of the Death Eaters Kissed by the Dementors when they became uncontrollable after Voldemort was defeated," he said. She gasped at the name and trembled. "Voldemort is worse than dead, Rowena. Even I do not fear there is any possibility he will come back. There is no fear in the Name anymore. I will no longer give him even that much power over me.

"The Dementors sensed his loss of power at once," he continued, returning to his answer of her question. "It is likely they assumed he was dead. Without his power to control them, they turned their feeding frenzy onto friend and foe alike. The Giants were unaware of his loss of power, so they held their lines. Many of the Death Eaters within their perimeter were trapped with the Dementors when their former 'allies' suddenly turned on them.

"Had Hagrid not arrived with his brother, it is likely they all would have been Kissed before anyone could get through to subdue the Dementors."

"What did Grawp do?"

"Spoke to the Giants, translating. He and Hagrid convinced them Voldemort was defeated, rounded them up and led them off. No doubt Hagrid is having a celebratory homecoming with them in a cozy cave somewhere in the mountains," Severus said dryly.

"Oh, dear! I'll bet the Ministry loved that!"

Severus snorted, "Believe me, at the time, all was chaos. No one there at the moment cared a Knarl's arse what those Giants did, as long as they weren't fighting. By the time the Ministry knew what happened, they were gone. Hagrid may have some legal challenges when he returns, but no doubt our favorite Old Meddler made contingency plans for that as well."

"And You-Know-Who is really defeated?" she asked, tremulously. "I have to admit, I'd feel better if he was dead."

"Did you see the photo? His body was very weak. All his strength came from magic—potions, charms, glamours, a constant battle to keep the physical body healthy enough to survive. Without magic to sustain him, he would be dead. I believe the Ministry intends to keep him in excellent health—considering the inferiority of his physical form—so he will have a good, long time to survive as a Muggle. There is no hope for cure, his magic has been obliterated."

He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and turned it over, peeling off a small bandage to reveal the area to her. There was an angry looking red mark there, blistered and oozing like a burn, as though he might have brushed against a hot cauldron. However, it had no shape or form, just a blob of burnt skin. When the wound healed—as it was clearly doing already—there would likely only be the faintest of scars as a reminder.

"It is finally over."

She reached out and cupped her hand under his arm, allowing her thumb to caress the skin near the burn.

"Are you upset about Lucius?" She could feel his shrug where she leaned against him, and sense his ambivalence through the Bond.

"No. Disappointed in the waste, perhaps. He had a gift for diplomacy if nothing else. Had he survived, he would easily have become almost as dangerous as Voldemort. He was content being a lackey only as long as there was someone stronger than himself. Had either he or Bellatrix Lestrange remained at large, I would not be nearly so confident in this final end of the war.

"Lucius was never my 'friend'. He was a useful ally at one time but you need not fear I have any grief or sentimentality over his loss. I would have cheerfully killed him myself if given the opportunity. This seems to be fitting. He, like Voldemort, is now worse than dead. He deserves his fate," he said firmly.

Rowena remembered the sight of Lucius transfiguring and then torturing the goat-Katrina and found she had no compassion for the ruined man herself.

"What will happen to Narcissa and Draco?" She asked, dropping her hand from his arm to circle his waist instead.

"The Malfoy fortune is theirs, of course. Draco has none of his father's innate ambition or talent for manipulation and leadership. He's had too much handed to him too easily for his entire life. He will be able to continue to buy his way into the 'right' circles, but he will never have the influence of his father. Though I doubt he will want to acknowledge me as his Godfather any more. I am certainly not afraid of any repercussions from that quarter."

She had left her hair loose and straight this evening, and he was idly toying his hand through the honey-brown strands.

"Were you planning to tell me your cowboy paramour is a homosexual?" he asked in his dangerous silken tones, smirking at her. He was rewarded for his sudden change of subject with a guilty start of surprise and a truly beautiful blush of shame which suffused her face.

"Dylan was never my 'paramour'," she protested weakly. "It wasn't for me to tell. He told me just after we broke up, the night of Remus' attack. How… how did you find out?"

"He is here. He arrived a few days before the battle with his 'partner'."

"Dylan is here? His partner? Is it Joshua?" she asked. She sat up and turned to face him fully, her eyes now sparkling with delight.

"He introduced the man as his partner and referred to him as 'Josh'," Severus said, raising a brow at her. "Is it relevant?"

"Josh was his 'fella'. He was getting married last year to a woman his family chose for him, which was why Dylan accepted the position here. He said that's why he was so easily taken in by Lucius, because this Josh looked a lot like him. Does he?"

"The resemblance is there, yes. Apparently the marriage did not take place, as they both arrived and Howard is even more revoltingly cheerful than before," Severus said dryly.

"Oh, I can't wait to meet him," Rowena said, laughing happily. "I wonder why it didn't go off? I'm very glad to hear Dylan's so well recovered from the train attack as to be able to come back and fight."

"I'm sure you will see them soon enough. They want to be invited to the wedding," he said, recapturing her hair which had slipped from his hand when she moved away.

She stopped laughing then, as she caught the intense look in his fathomless eyes, the look which always took her breath away and made her heart race.

"It seems, then, there remains only one issue to be resolved at this point," he said silkily. He tugged gently on her hair so she tilted her head back slightly. He could see her pulse fluttering in her throat and dipped his head to kiss her there. His low voice vibrated across her skin as he spoke against it. "When do you want to get married?"

"Tomorrow!" She said with breathless urgency.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, leaning back to look at her again, smirking. "Even Molly Weasley could not organize a wedding on such short notice."

He returned to the smooth stretch of bare skin at her throat with hot, nipping kisses. He was rewarded with her soft sigh of pleasure as she leaned back against the sofa and pulled him with her.

"You agreed as soon as possible…" she said erratically. His attention to the sensitive portions of her neck and ears proved to be incredibly distracting—not terribly conducive to conversing coherently.

"Mmm, so I did," he murmured against her throat, working his way inexorably to her lips.

"We could go to the Ministry tomorrow…" she said against his lips, her words lost in his suckling kisses. He pulled back and arched a haughty brow at her.

"I am not marrying you amongst those imbeciles. It is enough we will be forced to have one of the idiots officiate." He kissed her again, more demandingly than the teasing kisses of a moment before. "Plan a wedding, Rowena—a proper one."

"But no cherubs?" she asked between kisses, giggling mischievously.

"Not if you wish me to be present," he growled, pressing her further into the sofa to do a thorough job of kissing her senseless.

* * *

"Where are we going?" she asked as they stepped out into the gray chill afternoon. Her hair was braided again and she was in her warm winter cloak of deep maroon. The vivid shade heightened the color in her cheeks, which were already becoming pink in the breeze. He had again met her at the front door of Number 12 and escorted her out into the busy streets of London in the light of day. 

It was difficult not to feel nervous, or constantly feel the need to look over her shoulder. She could feel his echoing tension in the muscle of his arm beneath her hand.

"I have somewhere I wish you to see," he said evasively, though she felt an edge of anticipation through the Bond. "School has broken up for the Christmas holiday, do I need an excuse to come and see you and take you somewhere?"

"Of course not," she said smilingly. She hugged his arm to her and followed him down the steps. "It just feels odd, that's all."

"Get used to it. I insisted on secrecy for your safety. I am not ashamed of you, or of our engagement. The need for safety is gone, I will no longer hide," he said almost defiantly as they strode down the pavement toward a concealed public apparition point.

A lifetime of suspicion and subterfuge does not vanish overnight, however. She could feel his wariness and sense his eyes constantly moving about them, always watchful for potential threats. He gave any concealed doorways a wide berth, never allowed anyone to be standing behind him when they stopped to wait to cross a street, and she knew the hand of the arm she was not holding was concealed within his robes, clutching his wand.

"Well, then, are we in a hurry? I've been wanting to take you to Diagon Alley," she said. It was hard not to feel almost giddy with happiness—even through the nervousness—as though this was all a dream after the ordeal they had been through. She was almost bouncing on her toes with each step.

"We have no set schedule. What is in Diagon Alley?"

"A jeweler's shop my father recommended."

He raised a brow at her in surprise. "What jewelry do you desire? It is likely I have something suitable already."

"Not for me, Severus," she said with exasperation. "For you—_your_ wedding ring. I've seen a few I like in the catalogs, but now we can be out and about, I'd rather you help me pick it. I'm not really sure what you'd like."

"That is entirely unnecessary," he said uncomfortably.

"No it's not. I want you to have a ring," she said stubbornly. "At the very least I want you to come so I know your tastes."

No amount of arguing would sway her, and in the end he relented. The rings she had chosen as likely candidates were tasteful; there were none which he would have refused to wear. He did refuse to make the final choice, however, wanting to leave it to her and curious as to what she would choose. She decided to be contrary and announced he would just have to wait until the wedding to be 'surprised'.

This 'brief' trip into the Alley turned into a lengthy shopping excursion as she made stops to inquire about flowers and other details for the wedding. Minerva had gladly consented to have it at Hogwarts, and this time there was no need to hide it away from the students. It would occur in the Great Hall during the Easter Holiday. Rowena refused to wait all the way until the summer holiday and for once he did not argue with her stubbornness.

They were in the alley for over an hour before she decided she was done and he could take her to his originally intended destination. He placed his hand over her fingers where they rested in the crook of his arm, and Apparated them away.

* * *

The landscape was much the same as it had been almost a year ago. The snow covered the worst of the debris, though that was not necessarily a good thing as it made walking more treacherous. Still, it gave an air of cleanliness to the ugly ruins, hiding the worst of the scorch marks and barren earth beneath a pristine blanket of glistening white. 

"Where are we?" she asked, clinging tighter to his arm. He felt her trepidation and curiosity through the Bond.

"Do you see the barn?" he asked in return, gesturing to the haven he and his mother had used repeatedly in the years they had lived in the now-ruined home.

She looked in the direction he pointed and shook her head.

"I can't see it. I see the tree and roses—that took some intensive charm-work to protect them even in this weather so they would still bloom," she said, impressed. She looked up at him searchingly. "Is this your home?"

He nodded and approached the barn. Rowena's inability to see it confirmed his suspicion his mother must have somehow hidden it from his father's view. Possibly it had forgetfulness charms on it as well, so he would not recall it had been there. Not that Devin Snape would have deigned to enter the structure even if he could see it or remember its existence.

"This is where I grew up. I destroyed the house, as I told you before, when I joined the Death Eaters. I wondered why they did not question me when I left the barn alone—clearly they were unable to see it. Come," he took her by the hand and led her inside.

It was as he had left it last April. The areas he had disturbed as he looked through his mother's journal had a lighter coating of dust than the rest, but clearly no one had been in here since then. He took her through the tour of the small building, sharing the less painful snippets of his childhood as he did so.

Once they left the building, they turned back, and now she was able to see it clearly. He carefully walked her around the ruins of the building, describing how it was before the destruction.

He lingered in the winter-dead weeds of the garden, some of them peeking through the layer of snow. The garden, to him, was the greatest loss of the physical property. He and his mother had once carefully tended it. It had been abundant in rare and temperamental magical plants and herbs necessary for potion making. He felt his ties to this particular patch of ground very strongly, as the seat of most of his pleasant memories of his mother and his childhood.

"The land is good. There is plenty of space; it still has many of the privacy wards intact. I would like you to consider living here, once it has been rebuilt," he said as they stood within the warming charms which encircled the blooming tree and roses. He looked out over the ruins of the house, while she looked at the lovingly tended headstones.

"Sonja was your sister? The baby you told me about?"

"Yes."

"Would you be comfortable living here? Wouldn't it just bring up a lot of bad memories?" She asked, taking his hand and tilting her face to look up at him concernedly.

He accepted her hand and squeezed it gently, allowing himself to feel her love and concern for him through their Bond, and returning the affection with reassurance.

"I believe I have exorcised my own daemons in regards to this place. I am ready to start afresh, to take what was malignant and turn it to something benign. It is hard to imagine now, in the barrenness of winter, but it is quite aesthetically appealing in the summer."

She felt a surge of pride for him that he was able to come full circle like this and face what had once been so painful and make plans to turn it into something positive.

Her bright smile made him feel as though the sun had come from behind the silver-gray clouds.

"I'm sure it's beautiful, Severus."

"Then you consent?"

"Of course. It'll take some time to rebuild this, though, I would think," she said, stepping closer to him so she could wrap her arms around him, slipping inside his cloak to share his warmth, even though it was warm enough where they were standing.

"I was serious when I said I wanted to travel. I have already informed Minerva not to plan on me for the next school year. When the spring term ends, we will leave. I do not know if I will return to teach after that year, but I have left my options open. By the time we return, the work should be done." He welcomed her into his arms and enfolded her within them, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You've been thinking about this a lot," she said in surprised amusement.

"It does not make sense not to plan ahead," he said loftily.

They spent the rest of the waning daylight walking about the grounds as he described in more detail his plans for the reconstruction.

* * *

The war was over, the Hogwarts Board of Governors unanimously elected Minerva McGonagall as the new Headmistress, and the school routine settled in to as near to normality as she could manage. Even the students of Death Eater parents were welcome to return to school—so long as they had not actually fought against Hogwarts in the battle. 

There were, understandably, some altercations in the corridors, but nothing which could not be easily dealt with. Albus' protection seemed to act in full force in these instances, so there were rarely serious injuries, though there were often highly embarrassing mishaps. Draco Malfoy refused to return to Hogwarts, though he had not fought in the battle. He did not want to face his 'traitorous' Head of House. Severus was not sorry to see him go.

Rowena did not return to teaching as her position had been fabricated for the purposes of keeping her at the castle legitimately during the war and was no longer needed. However, she made frequent, open visits to the castle, often with Katrina in tow.

Fawkes remained in the Headmistress' office, and no one knew why. Dumbledore's portrait merely smiled mysteriously, said he had a job to do before moving on, and refused to elaborate further.

Amelia Susan Bones was elected as the new Minister for Magic, and it seemed as though the entire wizarding community breathed a sigh of relief. Her reputation as no-nonsense and above bribery preceded her. Everyone was hopeful that some common sense would begin to show itself in the Ministry.

One of her first official actions as Minister was to arrange and conduct an award ceremony at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt were all awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, as well as Albus Dumbledore, posthumously.

Remus' award was primarily for leading the Order forces during the final battle, but as the Minister gave it to him, she also mentioned his role in Pettigrew's demise. Lupin's smile dimmed at once, his very expressive face revealing his discomfort. Severus knew Lupin had at last met Pettigrew face to face during the fight, and that Pettigrew was dead. He now assumed Lupin took care of that issue appropriately—as was his right considering the circumstances—and was apparently feeling some remorse as the result

Rubeus Hagrid, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Filius Flitwick, Sturgis Podmore, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, and over twenty other Order and DA members were awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class.

Neville's role during the final battle, in particular, had been surprising, at least to Severus.

He was solely responsible for the capture of Bellatrix Lestrange. Severus thought it was unfortunate the boy could not apply his intricate knowledge of Herbology to Potions more effectively. He might have been an adequate student.

He apparently managed to crossbreed a _Mimbulous mimbletonia_ with Devil's Snare. He then fashioned the resultant sap-like substance into what was essentially a water-balloon full of the goo. Bellatrix was observing the melee well behind the primary lines and, as arrogant as always, wore no mask to conceal her identity. Longbottom had Potter's cloak and an inordinate amount of luck the Dementors were too focused on the battle to notice him sneaking through the lines.

Who would have thought the clumsy boy could manage to sneak silently like that?

At any rate, he hit Bellatrix with this makeshift bomb and it exploded, covering her in the sticky slop. Her first reaction, as would anyone's be, was to touch it and try to wipe it away, to see what it was. The sap had the sticky, odiferous quality of the _Mimbulous_, but it spread rapidly to cover any surface like the Devil's Snare. Shortly after exposure to air, it became rock-hard, effectively immobilizing its target. Longbottom would be receiving some sort of Herbology award, in addition to the Order of Merlin, Second Class for being responsible for Bellatrix' capture.

Dozens of Order of Merlin, Third Class awards were also presented, including to all the other Weasley boys, John Lupin, Rowena Lupin, and Molly and Arthur Weasley.

It was a grand event, with everyone decked out in their most formal best. Severus found the long-coveted award did not seem so valuable after all, though he accepted it gracefully. He thought perhaps the best part about the evening was that there were too many recipients for any of them to stand out in the gathering—so he was not forced to give a trite speech or to listen to anyone else doing so.

Well, no, not the best part.

The best part was openly sitting next to Rowena, who looked elegant in sky blue robes, her hair falling in gentle curls to her waist, his ring on her finger and her eyes full of love and pride for him. No longer would he have to hide her or parade her about before Death Eaters and scum. His external appearance of boredom with the proceedings concealed a great deal of contentment.

As far as a means to spend an evening went, it wasn't so bad. Certainly there were worse things.

* * *

"Absolutely not," he said in firm tones which would brook no argument. He was sitting at his desk in his lab where she had come to find him to ask him about music selections for the wedding. 

"But Emmeline has a lovely singing voice. I wanted to have her sing something while we signed the Marriage certificate, like she did for Remus and Tonks," Rowena said, clearly trying to be placating. She was standing in front of his desk with a thick roll of parchment containing the musical score and lyrics for the song in question, "The Glory of Love".

"Fine. Have her sing something. Just not _THAT_," he said emphatically, crossing his arms and glowering.

"I don't understand you," she said in exasperation. "I _like_ this song—it's my favorite of the ones you left me. It has so much meaning for us; it seemed like the perfect choice."

"Yes—meaning for US. Which to me implies _personal_ and _private_. I wish you to be happy and have the wedding you want—the wedding you ought to have had the first time. However, I will not have my love for you cheapened by some tawdry display to leave it open for mockery."

She gasped and stared at him in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping like a fish.

"What?" he asked impatiently, his tones rising in irritation, even as a sense of wondering awe washed over him through the Bond.

"You… you said you love me," she said softly.

Now it was his turn to look at her in surprise.

"Yes? Has that not been established long before now?"

"But you've never actually _said_ it."

To him, this was baffling. Was that not the purpose of the Bond? Was that not the reason behind all of his failed attempts to protect her? Was that not the primary message in each of the syrupy songs that he had left for her? Did he really need to say it aloud?

Apparently, by the blissful expression in her eyes and the overwhelming joy he could sense from her through the Bond, the answer to that was 'yes'—at least occasionally.

He rose from his chair and walked around the desk to her. He unceremoniously plucked the parchment from her hands and threw it into the fire.

"Choose any song you like, except the four I sent you," he said firmly, his back to her. He waved his wand to make certain his wards were set on his door before turning back to her. Her delicate chin was set at a very defiant angle and he could feel her innate obstinacy rising to the occasion.

She was still torn between delight at what he had said so unconsciously and irritation at his inflexibility, when his strong, long-fingered hand cupped her chin gently. She could feel his affection through the Bond.

"Rowena, I love you."

She burst into tears, which was not at all the response he had been expecting. However, apparently these were tears of 'happiness', a concept he had yet to grasp, as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently.

* * *

A/N: German translations, thanks to Lady Claire: 

Nein—No

Frechdachs—rascal or brat, often used in this situation as an exasperated 'pet name' a parent might use with a child who is misbehaving

Pappi—daddy

Mutti—mummy


	55. Chapter 55: As it Should Be

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

* * *

Chapter 55: As it Should Be

* * *

It seemed only fitting, since they were indeed about to become brothers-in-law, for Severus to ask the werewolf to stand up with him. Truly, there was no one else he would remotely consider for the job, so it was more a matter of the least of all evils than any genuine feelings of camaraderie with the man. Or so he told him when he made the request. Lupin accepted with all the gentle smiling cordiality which was his nature and the position was filled with a minimal of inconvenience.

To his surprise, there were several people in addition to Remus Lupin who wanted to throw him a 'Stag Night' as Potter had done for the werewolf. Needless to say, he refused. He did end up spending an evening alone at the castle while Tonks took Rowena out with almost the same group of women as for her own Hen Party, with the addition of Elizabeth Miller and a few of Rowena's friends from the Ministry.

"Remus Lupin is here to see you, Severus. May I let him in?" asked the smiling shade of Albus from the portrait on the door.

Severus did not look up from his book, but gave a small noise which might have been a sigh of disgust. The portrait took it as approval and swung open.

"C'mon, old man," Remus said genially, leaning against the doorframe. "You wouldn't let me throw you a proper Stag, but I'm at least taking you out for a few drinks. I'd be shirking my duty as Best Man if I didn't do something."

"Where is Katrina?" Severus asked, looking up from his book but making no move to rise from his chair.

"Gryffindor Tower with Ginny and Hermione, having a sleep-over," Remus said, his smile widening at the mingled look of disgust and horror which crossed the other man's face. "You worry like an old mother hen. You might as well come along; I won't stop badgering you until you do."

"That child has had enough problems in her life without you lot trying to turn her into a Gryffindor," he grumbled. He set his book aside irritably and rose from his chair. A few drinks in any company would be less odious than sitting here being badgered incessantly by the werewolf. "Very well, very well."

He went to his potion stores and extracted a few vials. He stopped at the open door and flourished his arm toward the corridor, smirking at the werewolf.

"After you, then," he said.

"Excellent," Remus said, beaming and they set off.

* * *

The Smiling Sphinx was a popular pub just off the main stretch of Diagon Alley. Severus had tried to insist The Three Broomsticks was 'good enough', but Lupin countered that he wanted to take Severus someplace he wouldn't normally go himself.

Their brief walk from the public Apparition point through the Alley had been eventful, with numerous people recognizing them from their photos in The Daily Prophet. Severus would have gladly scared them all off with a good glare and snarl, but Remus elbowed him sharply before he could say a word.

"The world needs Heroes just now, Severus. Like it or not, you are one. I'm not asking you to be nice—we all know that might possibly kill you—but at least make an attempt at being polite," he hissed as a woman with two awe-struck little boys in tow approached them breathlessly.

"I am scrupulously polite," Severus hissed back indignantly, just as the woman reached them. Lupin cast him a dubious look, but then smiled warmly at the woman and her sons.

She had a heavy Cockney accent and looked as harried and harassed as if she had a dozen children to keep in line rather than just two. She was beaming broadly and blinking back tears.

"I can't believe my luck—to run into two right and proper Heroes in one! These are my boys, Robert and Tristan. My husband was killed by that foul You-Know-Who's people, plucked right out of the floo on his way to work. Thank you—thank you so much for putting an end to all that! Please… it would just make their day… if the boys could shake your hands?"

She spoke rapidly, looking fondly at her children, who were now blinking up at them with shy smiles. Remus shook hands with both boys, bending down to their eye level to greet them by name. He chatted with them easily, while Severus stood by, uncomfortably observing the exchange.

When the shy glances turned more and more his direction, he silently shook hands with the children in somewhat stilted politeness, though still with his innate grace. The older of the two boys, the one with the more serious demeanor, gripped his hand longer than necessary.

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you," he blurted out in the awkward way of childish hero-worship.

"You would be better served, when you grow up, to follow your own path and not allow yourself to be led astray," Severus said, horrified at the implications of what the child had said, even though the boy had no idea what his statement implied.

The boy's look of almost reverent adoration was exceedingly uncomfortable and the bloody werewolf was still chatting amicably with the other boy and their mother.

"Lupin, I believe we should be going?" he said pointedly.

"Ah, yes, of course, Severus," Remus said amicably. He turned back to the woman to make their excuses. "He's getting married tomorrow, he's a bit nervous."

Severus glared at him. Was it necessary to tell complete strangers his private business?

"Oh! I read about that in the paper, I did. He's marrying your sister, isn't that right? Why, you'll be brothers! A whole family of heroes, what a blessing. I can't wait until my boys go off to Hogwarts. The world needs role models like you lot. I'm so very pleased to meet you. Thank you again…"

She would have wrung their hands incessantly and continued her stream of effusive gratitude indefinitely had one of her children not announced the need to go to the loo.

"When was my marriage discussed in the paper? I read the Prophet thoroughly every day and haven't seen anything of the sort." Severus said angrily as soon as she finally left.

"Not the Prophet," Remus said with a shake of his head. "It was in Witch Weekly, in the gossip column. Your marriage license is public record, so as soon as you applied for it, the gossip columnists got hold of it and announced it for you. I told you it would have been better to just tell the Prophet yourself."

"I did not wish the publicity," he said irritably. The interaction with the woman and her children had unsettled him. He had regarded all the curious looks and whispers as they passed with deep suspicion and unconsciously been walking with one hand in his robes, tightly gripping his wand.

He was unaccustomed to drawing notice in public at all—let alone benevolent or even admiring notice.

"Well, I'm afraid you don't have much choice on the publicity front, mate," Remus said, guiding him into the pub at last. "Anything you do that's public record is going to be in the papers somewhere, whether you announce it personally or not. The same column said you had been granted a year's sabbatical from your position at Hogwarts effective at the end of June, but your positions both as Potions Master and Head of House have only been temporarily filled."

Severus shook his head in disgust. Thankfully the pub, though popular, was also quiet and filled with individuals who seemed disinclined to make a fuss over the 'heroes' in their midst. He went directly to a vacant table in the farthest corner and sat—with his back to the wall facing outward into the room and the entrance beyond. Old habits.

Remus went to the bar and returned with a bottle of expensive brandy and two glasses. He filled them and held one up in salute.

"To Severus Snape, reluctant Hero and soon to be my brother-in-law," he said with a teasing grin. "I wish you all the best. It's about bloody time you married my sister. Cheers."

Severus picked up his own glass and clinked it unenthusiastically against the werewolf's, still silently fuming over this unexpected new development—fame.

* * *

"Oh my goodness! Who would wear something like _that?_! Where would you wear it?" Rowena exclaimed, blushing crimson as the women around her laughed and the bewitched mannequin posed suggestively. It was wearing… well, next to nothing in Rowena's opinion. A scarlet wisp of transparent lace made into a daring 'teddy' which barely covered the important bits.

Rowena's Hen Night for Tonks had suited the personality of the woman who planned it and had therefore been tasteful and subdued. Some might even call it a bit dull considering the occasion.

Tonks, never one to be considered tasteful or subdued, seemed to have decided to show Rowena a proper 'do'.

Rowena had spoiled part of the surprise by flatly refusing to go to the male strip-club. However, the lingerie show Tonks arranged at a private Hotel in London was proving to be about as risqué as Rowena could handle. The women around her hooted and laughed, as much at her blushing embarrassment as at the garments displayed. The articles were available for purchase, of course, so many of the women selected ones they thought would be suitable and bought them for her as wedding gifts.

"YOU wear it, Rowena," said Elizabeth, who was sitting next to her. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. "You wear it to bed… though the idea is not to be in it for long."

"Lizzy!" Rowena cried, nearly waking the baby she was holding. Little Garret was still dependent on his mum for feedings and was tiny enough to sleep through most anything, so Rowena had insisted her friend bring him along.

"Oy, that one is from me, Rowena," said Tonks, laughing. "You can tell old Snape he owes me one. You might be embarrassed, but I'm sure he'll like it. Cheers!"

She had mistakenly asked 'what is the _point_' when one of the articles modeled was a pair of crotchless underpants in black leather with a matching brassiere lacking the crucial center of the cup.

"Nevermind! I know already…" she said, covering her face as several of her friends hooted and began to describe—in graphic detail—precisely what the point was. Hestia bought her that 'outfit', such as it was.

Her mother, thankfully, bought her a very tasteful spaghetti-strapped gown in a dark rose silk lace. It was only when the lighting changed that she realized it was so sheer as to be nearly transparent, but at least it would FEEL like she was wearing… _something_.

It required a great deal of champagne to get through the embarrassing—but fun—ordeal, so she was grateful Severus had insisted on sending along a hangover preventative. She didn't want to be miserable on her wedding day.

She had to admit, after it was blessedly over, she had enjoyed herself, in-between the embarrassing bits. She had no doubt Severus would enjoy the resultant 'gifts'.

That thought left her feeling uncomfortably warm and squirmy as she tried to settle to sleep. She was very glad her wedding day was almost here at last. Her dreams were positively indecent.

* * *

Severus stood in the staff room, trying to appear bored and unconcerned—as he retied his cravat for the third time. He felt exceedingly uncomfortable. It was not that his robes were not well tailored of the finest silk—they were and they fit him perfectly.

However, they were not black.

It was one of their last major arguments in regards to this event, and she had been unwilling to relent.

"No black, Severus," she had said, mimicking his stern tones. "And don't think you'll get away with it because I won't see you until it's too late. I made Remus promise to transfigure your robes into something bright and flowery if you dared to wear black—and he's more afraid of me than he is of you."

Granted, the robes of the reflection staring back at him were so dark green as to be _almost_ black, but apparently that was sufficient, as Lupin had not said anything. Still, they were not black and the crisp white shirt and white silk of the cravat emphasized that point.

The werewolf was sitting back in a chair across from his father, playing chess, both men trying to pretend not to notice Severus' uncharacteristic display of nerves. This was unsuccessful, as he frequently caught them exchanging knowing grins over the board. He prided himself on his self-restraint, as evidenced by the fact he did not hex either one of them.

He forced himself to stop adjusting the tie and instead sat in one of the chairs near the Lupins. He had all the appearance of outward calm, as long as one did not look too closely at the hand which kept straying to his pocket to check the rings.

Rowena had worn her engagement ring to the Hen Party last night, but Tonks brought it to him this morning as they agreed. Shortly after their trip to the jewelers in December, he'd had a wedding band made to wrap around it and now carried both in his pocket.

"I could carry those for you now, if you like, Severus," Remus said with a knowing grin. "I promise not to lose them and then you won't have anything to worry about."

Like a child snatching his hand away from a biscuit jar in the act of nicking, Severus withdrew his hand from his pocket and picked up the newspaper lying nearby.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Lupin," he said lazily.

The paper did not ease his mood, as there was a small article on the lower-front page of the Prophet announcing their marriage today. He scowled at it and threw it aside.

"Suit yourself. Would you like a drink? A brandy perhaps?"

"I do not need to be inebriated to wed your sister, Lupin," he snapped. "If I want something, I will get it myself."

The room gradually filled with other well-wishers who came and went. Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived an hour before the ceremony already dressed in his robes. Rowena wanted her friend Elizabeth to stand up with her in addition to Tonks, so Severus had been forced to accept a second Groomsman. Fortunately Shacklebolt had consented. He and Lupin were dressed in navy blue robes, a color which went very well with the soft rose of the bridesmaid dresses Rowena had chosen.

Katrina flounced into the room; golden curls bouncing, rose and navy ribbons in her hair.

"Mutti says she needs Uncle Remus to help her with her hair," she said, looking about the room. She spotted Severus and climbed onto his lap. "Oh! Pappi! Wait until you see her—she looks like a princess!"

"As every bride should on her wedding day, Frechdachs," he said, having given up, at least for the moment, trying to get her not to call him 'daddy' or Rowena 'mummy' in German.

She nodded and stroked her fingers over his silk tie.

"You look like a prince, too," she said decisively, ignoring his disbelieving snort. "Uncle Remus says I getta help him and Auntie Tonks give you their weddin' present."

"Yup, that's right, but don't go spoiling the surprise," Remus said, tweaking one of her curls. "I'm off to play hairdresser to the bride, then. See you soon."

"Lupin," Severus called him back just before he left and produced a small box from a pocket, holding it out to Remus. "For her hair."

Katrina looked at the box eagerly, from where she sat on his lap.

"What's in it, can I see?"

"Later, poppet," Remus said as he took the box and patted Katrina on the head, careful not to muss her curls. He put the box in his pocket without opening it and left the room.

* * *

Her quarters were still much as she had left them, though her personal belongings had been removed to Grimmauld Place. The furnishings belonging to Hogwarts remained, of course, so it was here they gathered to help her get ready for the wedding.

The choosing of the dress had been easy. Her mother, Tonks and Molly Weasley had taken her all over Diagon Alley one afternoon and they had looked at what felt like hundreds of dresses. She had tried them all on for the benefit of the others, but she had known at once which one she would wear.

It was an ivory confection of silk and lace. Interwoven through the ivory silk were gossamer fine threads of gold so it seemed to glow from within as the light reflected off of the golden strands. The bodice was snug-fitting and beaded with faux pearls and sequins. Three-quarter length sleeves puffed slightly at the shoulder before tapering gently to hug her slender arms. The neckline was heart shaped in a scoop that was somewhat daring without being immodest, and gracefully framed her neck and shoulders. The skirt was long and full—the fullness helped by thick layers of petticoats—overlaid with fine beaded lace and gentle ruffles sweeping the hem as it trailed behind her in a graceful train.

She wore the opal pendant Severus had given her over a year ago, which it looked as though the dress had been made with the pendant in mind, ivory and gold iridescence shimmering from both.

The dress seemed to be created just for Rowena, the golden threads making her own natural coloring glow vibrantly. She looked radiant. Her mother and Molly smiled at her happily over her shoulders where she looked at herself in the mirror. She was fretting slightly over her hair when a knock came at her door. Molly answered it and Remus followed her into the room.

Rowena looked up at him and smiled nervously. He was well dressed in the navy-blue dress robes she had chosen and smiling warmly at her. He had a square box in his hand, about the size of a small book.

"Your fiancée sent this for your hair," he said, handing her the box with a grin and a low bow. "I am here as official hairdresser to the bride. You look lovely already, 'Wena."

She beamed at him and hugged him, for a moment too choked up with happiness and nerves to be able to speak properly. Instead she opened the box.

It contained a delicate headband of gold and pearls, with dozens of fine golden chains of differing lengths hanging from it, tiny pearls shimmering from among the links. Remus did her hair in a partial up-do, which brought elegantly up and away from her neck, while allowing much of it to cascade down from the top of the style like a waterfall of honey-brown curls. The headband fit perfectly behind her ears, the strands of pearls falling artfully to mingle with her hair.

Rowena hugged him warmly when he finished.

They had come such a long way together in such a short time. They had been estranged for more of their lives than they had gotten along, and Rowena knew full well her own stubbornness was largely responsible for the dispute. It was almost as much of a miracle as all of the rest, to have him here like this, but to actually have him helping her prepare to marry the man who had been the primary source of their conflict all those years ago.

This was better than she had ever dared hope—she had her big brother back in her life unreservedly, she was marrying the only man she had ever loved—AND the two said men where somehow managing to get along together as well. It was as though a Fairy Godmother had come out of the pages of her favorite tales and granted the deepest wish of her heart.

"Thank you, Remus," she said thickly, blinking back tears. He hugged her tightly in return.

"I'm just glad you're happy, Rowena."

"Who's doing the music for the reception, Rowena?" Tonks asked from where she was sitting, trying to repair the strap of her shoe which had torn when she tripped earlier.

"Severus hired someone," she said with a grin. "He wasn't about to let that job fall to Bill Weasley again. I believe he even hired a band—he wouldn't tell me. Though I'm afraid if you had your heart set on the Hokey Cokey or the Macarena again, you'll be disappointed. I'd be surprised to hear any Muggle music, or at least not anything recent."

"Ah, well, that's alright. A good band can usually play about anything. Sounds like fun."

* * *

Amelia Susan Bones, the Minister for Magic herself, came to officiate the wedding. Severus was dismayed at the amount of Paparazzi, but Minerva had confined them to a small area of standing-room-only at the back of the Great Hall.

The Hall itself was packed. When he looked out over the crowd through the side door through which he and his Groomsmen would soon enter the Hall, he was astounded. He had expected a fair number of people, of course. Rowena was very popular with her students and had several friends from her job at the Ministry. Apparently his newfound 'Hero' status had increased his own popularity more than he realized. There were many of his former students and their families among the guests in addition to Order members and other mutual acquaintances.

He closed the door, through which he had NOT been doing anything so undignified as 'peeking', and took a deep breath. At least there were no cherubs.

"Severus, relax," Lupin's voice came from behind him, sounding revoltingly cheerful and amused. "You go to a marriage, not the gallows."

Severus snorted.

"Throw my own words back at me, Lupin?" he said. "At least you knew everyone in attendance at your nuptials. There are at least a hundred people out there whom I do not know. Are we so lax with security barely three months after the end of the war?"

"Minerva's put Moody in charge of Security, Severus. Are you really concerned HE will be careless?"

"Why are there so many people?" Severus asked angrily, ignoring Lupin's answer to his prior question. "Is something this solemn to be taken so lightly, as though our marriage is a form of entertainment, a circus? It is degrading—I will not have this spoiled for her after all we've been through."

His anger did not fade at the werewolf's chuckle and he rounded on the other man, scowling darkly at his placid demeanor.

"Severus, I know where you're coming from, believe me. That was at least half my nerves when I married Tonks. If we could have just married in front of Albus and been on our merry way, I wouldn't have been nervous at all.

"This is part of the 'romance' of it, mate. Trust me. The more people who hear you exchange your vows to 'love, honor and cherish as long as you both shall live', the more romantic she'll think it is. By definition, a 'big' wedding is more special that way. Don't ask me why—it's a girl thing. It's why they get all missish and tearful when they read about some flamboyant proposal or wedding in the paper. It's so 'romantic' when some bloke is willing to make a fool of himself in the name of love.

"No one is here to spoil your day. They're here to celebrate it with you. Just focus on Rowena, ignore the rest of the poor saps out there, and you'll get through it."

For his part, Severus could not see the logic in allowing just anyone to be witness to this event. It ought to be special, sacred—the large crowd made him feel as though he was about to cast pearls before swine.

However, the last bit of advice from his soon to be brother-in-law made sense. This was what she wanted, or she would not have allowed it. He had agreed to it. He was not about to back out now. Merlin knew he had done far more degrading things at the command of Voldemort—or Albus for that matter. He would do as Remus said, focus on Rowena and get through it.

That thought brought him back to the rings he still toyed with in his pocket, which he now realized he had very nearly forgotten to give to Remus.

"Why did you not tell me I hadn't given these to you yet?" he snapped angrily as he pulled the rings from his pocket and handed them to Remus.

"I asked you earlier… Oh, never mind," Remus said as he accepted the jewelry. He looked at the wrap now adorning the familiar stone and looked up at Severus with a glance of surprise. "Did Rowena help you design the wrap?"

"Of course not, she has not seen it. Why?" Severus asked suspiciously. "I thought the symbolism appropriate."

"Oh, I agree," said Remus, pocketing the ring. "I'm sure she'll like it. I was just curious, that's all."

The music changed then, to signal they were due to enter the room, robbing Severus of the opportunity to questioning him though he was in no way satisfied with the answer.

* * *

The crowd stood as one multi-headed creature when the music changed again to the Wedding March. The gasps and moans of reverent awe slowly made their way to the front of the Hall like a gentle wave and in that moment he understood a little. The crowd ceased to bother him.

She truly did look like a princess, beautiful and radiant, beaming at him with eyes over-bright from glistening tears. She approached him proudly; one hand tucked in her father's arm, the other carrying an enormous bouquet of roses in various shades of pink, white and red.

An enormous surge of possessive male pride washed over him as he watched her. He wouldn't have cared if the entire Wizarding World was present at that moment. He wanted the world to know she was _his_.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" Amelia Bones' voice broke into his thoughts when Rowena reached him.

"She gives herself in marriage, joyously, with the firm blessing and approval of her mother and me." John Lupin's voice rang through the Hall clearly, thanks to the audio charms Filius had applied to the area earlier.

"Oh, daddy!" Rowena said, hugging him tearfully. Apparently she had not known what he was going to say.

John was also blinking rapidly, but he was smiling as he placed his daughter's hand in Severus'. He met the younger man's gaze and Severus gave a small nod of acknowledgement. John squeezed their clasped hands gently between his own and then took his seat next to his wife, who was daubing at tears.

The rest of the ceremony was only clearly remembered with the use of a Pensieve later. Bits of it stood out vividly in his mind, while other parts blurred together into one sensation which was very much like relief. Here, finally, something in his life was occurring in the best possible way. The emotions he felt from her through the Bond were almost overwhelming. Giddy happiness, soaring joy, reverent awe, excited nervousness and barely banked desire, all of it swirled through the Bond in waves like dolphins playing in the sea.

Even now it was impossible for him to be so unreserved with his own emotions, but he returned the sensations with the steadfast and tender warmth he felt for her. She met this gratefully; his steadiness like an anchor in the swirling hurricane of her emotion.

The first thing which stood out clearly in his memory was the exchange of rings. When he placed the altered set on her finger, she looked at it—and laughed! Well, it was more a small, nervous giggle, but still it surprised him and he almost stopped in the act of putting it on, except she pushed her hand forward to slide her finger through it.

As he had told her brother, he thought the symbolism appropriate. It was an Ouroboros; the snake wrapping around the base of her stone to swallow its own tail in ornate gold relief so the fire-diamond glittered brightly from within the perfect circle made from the snake's body.

The Ouroboros was a symbol of the circular nature of life, of new life being born again out of the old, similar to the symbolism of the Phoenix, though with stronger alchemical ties which was why it appealed to him. He actually had thought it rather clever and, yes, even romantic, which was why her laughter annoyed him so much.

Until it was her turn to give him his ring and then he understood.

The Ouroboros of his ring was a heavy masculine band which was intricately crafted so the snake seemed almost to be breathing, its scales delineated in sharp detail. The eye of the snake was a single, perfect emerald set low into the piece, nearly flush with the gold of the head surrounding the setting. This was an especially thoughtful detail, as it wouldn't catch on anything as he worked.

This was not one of the rings they had looked at that day in the shop. It was clearly unique; she must have had it crafted.

Obviously she, too, thought the symbolism appropriate.

Shortly thereafter, Emmeline Vance moved to the front of the room while the appropriate members of the Bridal party signed the Marriage certificate. Rowena had submitted to his dictates on this occasion and had not tried to insist to use one of the songs he had sent her. The song she eventually chose was old enough full origins were long forgotten and it was impossible to say if the composer was Muggle or Wizard.

When they signed the certificate, they returned to their places, holding hands and facing one another while Emmeline sang. There was a shared wistfulness through the Bond as they both remembered the last time they had been in a similar situation, when it had been Albus before them, performing the bonding ritual. It was impossible not to miss the twinkling blue eyes and think of how happy he would have been on this day.

**Love Will Find Out the Way****Lesley Nelson-Burns**

_(lyrics courtesy of Folk Lyrics of England)_

_Some think to lose him  
By having him confined  
Some do suppose him,  
Poor thing, to be blind;  
But if ne'er so close ye wall him,  
Do the best that you may,  
Blind Love, if so ye call him,  
Will find out his way._

_You may train the eagle  
To stoop to your fist.  
You may train in veigle  
The Phoenix of the east.  
The lioness, you may move her  
To give o'er her prey;  
But you'll ne'er stop a lover;  
He will find out his way._

Emmeline had only just finished singing the last note when another sound filled the hall—the high, clear, beautiful sound of Phoenix song. Fawkes flew through the room, the sound of his singing filling every heart in the room. He had molted many of his more vivid feathers and months of grief had dulled his usual shine, but still he was resplendent as he circled the Hall.

In his first pass over them, one glistening silvery tear fell directly over them, landing warm and soothing onto Rowena just behind the glittering headband. The second pass, another tear fell onto Severus. His song rose to a beautiful crescendo as he hovered over them and then, in a brilliant flash of red-gold light, he burst into flame and the glittering ash gently dusted them like bright amber confetti. As the still-glowing ash approached them, it landed on the intricate, invisible webbing which had constructed their Bond originally, to illuminate it briefly, as brightly as it had been when newly formed.

The ashes vanished completely before they reached the ground. Fawkes, too, had moved on.

_And now you embark on YOUR next grand adventure. I wish you both a wonderful 'happily ever after'._

Even in death, Albus had to have the last word.

* * *

The Paparazzi had a field day with the display, clicking their cameras like mad even from the distance they were forced to maintain. However, Moody, Hagrid and Sturgis Podmore firmly escorted them outside the building and off of the grounds while the Great Hall was quickly transformed from the wedding seating to elegantly set tables for the meal.

Severus shook more hands in the one hour while the transformation was occurring, as he and his new bride formed the receiving line with the rest of the wedding party, than he had ever done before in the whole course of his life. Or at least, that was how it felt. How many times could a person with his innate impatience for idiocy and ready snark possibly say, 'Thank you' with some semblance of politeness to the inane comments of the dozens of well-wishers? He managed well enough with the people he knew and even those who were clearly friends of Rowena's. He didn't bother with those who seemed to be merely stragglers and hangers-on.

The meal which followed also seemed interminable. How had he agreed to this? It was no comfort that it would soon be over, as he would then have to endure the party after. At least there he had complete control of the music. The primary source of his irritation was that it would be hours yet before he could finally be alone with his wife.

At last Remus stood and though he regarded the lycanthrope with increasing dread as he recalled his own speech when their roles were reversed, at least it meant the meal was nearly over.

"Don't worry, Severus. I'm not going to try and make much of a speech," he said, smiling his so-calm-it-is-irritating smile. "I'm just gong to use this opportunity to welcome you to the family. My sister may not be a 'Lupin' in name anymore, but as far as we're concerned, you've just joined our family, so get used to it.

"And speaking of families, Katrina has promised to help me present your wedding present. She, Tonks and I have been planning this for months. We hope you like it."

Katrina skipped around the table from where she had been sitting next to Becky. She picked up what appeared to be a roll of parchment from Tonks, skipped the rest of the way around the table with her curls bouncing and stopped between Rowena and Severus.

"You both hafta sign it," she said, still bouncing on her feet.

"Katrina, let them look at it first," Remus chided with an enormous Marauder grin. He produced a quill from his pocket and a small stoppered bottle of ink.

"Surely you do not expect me to sign anything you've drawn up, Lupin?" Severus asked suspiciously. Rowena and those in the room who knew them well, laughed.

"Just read it, Severus," Remus encouraged.

He unrolled it carefully and Rowena held the bottom edge so she could see it, too. Her eyes widened and she cried out in surprise. At first, she didn't believe what she was reading, but one look at her brother's Cheshire-cat grin removed all doubt. She let go of her end of the parchment and scooped Katrina onto her lap in a fierce hug, which quickly dissolved into tears.

Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably, tested his voice and found it to be adequate.

"I do not understand… you…"

"We've been her legal guardians. Not her parents. We deliberately never completed the adoption. I told you long ago that 'daddy' is a title which has to be earned. You earned it long before Tonks and I came into the picture. It's legal and binding, Severus. Amelia Bones drew up the papers herself."

"I do not know what to say," he said quietly.

"Don't say anything. All you have to do is sign it and she's yours."

Severus stared at him, for the moment too stunned for speech. He swallowed, hard and glanced over at the table where the Minister for Magic still graced their celebration. She smiled and gave him a small nod of assent. He looked at Rowena, so completely overwhelmed with emotion she was sobbing, even as Katrina sat on her lap giggling happily under the rain of kisses and crushingly tight hugs.

There was no possible way his voice was going to work properly now. He popped the rubber stopper out of the small vial of ink, dipped the quill in it and signed.

Woe betide anyone who dared to point out that his signature was incredibly shaky compared to his norm.

He passed the quill to Rowena, who was using her napkin to attempt to dry her face. Katrina hopped off her lap and climbed onto his as Rowena signed.

The room erupted in cheers and applause. Severus heard none of it. Rowena moved her chair close enough to lean her head against his shoulder and join in the 'group hug'; tears still flowing freely down her face. Katrina was beaming, clearly very proud of herself for pulling off the 'secret' for so long.

"You're really my daddy now, right?" she asked, tilting her chin to peer earnestly into his face.

"Yes, mein Engelchen, I really am your daddy," he said, grateful for the noise of the crowd so no one else would notice how hoarse his voice sounded.

* * *

The rest of the celebration became even more of a blur to him after that. It was almost too much emotional input to process at once. It was hard to believe less than six months ago he had been at the very lowest point in his life and now he felt like he must be at the pinnacle.

For someone used to misery at nearly every turn, he could not help but feel anxious and on edge, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The only surcease for this worry was his radiant new bride in his arms as they danced to the blessedly tasteful music of his hired band. They were careful not to neglect their other guests, dancing with others just often enough to meet the requirements of etiquette.

They both poked fun at Garvey, as she blatantly made play after play for one or the other of the cowboys, Dylan and Josh. They were remarkably discreet so those who did not already know they were gay would never have guessed it. It was amusing to watch the brazen woman's antics. It was especially amusing to watch the 'boys' encourage her just enough to keep her coming back for more. At the very least it kept her from bothering their other guests.

During the father-daughter dance, he danced unhesitatingly with Katrina, of course, and the tradition seemed to have gained meaning since the last time he had done so. She informed him matter-of-factly that Uncle Remus and Auntie Tonks said she could stay with them for a few more days so 'you and mummy can go on your honeymoon'.

Suddenly there was a whole new realm of details for which he had not planned.

"Where should we live until term is over?" he asked Rowena during one of their dances. She was standing flush against him, or as much as she could be with the fullness of her skirts, one hand around his back to rest on the cool silk of his robes while he held the other, guiding them gracefully around the floor. Her head rested against his chest and she radiated vibrant joy through their Bond.

"Here, of course. Just like we've been planning. I can do my contract research for the Ministry anywhere. You've already got the second room in your quarters for Katrina."

"Do you think she will be content at Hogwarts? The dungeons are not exactly cheerful. Perhaps we should move to your old quarters instead," he said, uncertainly.

"She'll be fine, Severus. It's only for a little while, until the house is done. The weather will start getting nice and I'll take her outside a lot. It would be silly to try and move everything now and again later. Depending on where we travel next year, she can just come with us. It will be educational and exciting. If we want a little time alone, we can bring her to my parents. It's fine, Severus—everything is going to be right as rain from now on, you'll see."

He gave her a very small smile as he gazed down at her.

"You Lupins and your incurable optimism," he said dryly.

"Get used to it," she said, grinning cheekily up at him.

"It seems that is the only choice at this point," he said with a smirk.

* * *

His threats to the Weasley twins had been among his more elaborate. He also had the assistance of his house elves, which the twins could not hope to know about. For whatever reason, nothing alarmed, flashed, exploded, or in any other way alerted the revelers the guests of honor were leaving.

Remus and Tonks came and collected Katrina from Severus—she had fallen asleep on his shoulder after agreeing to allow him to carry her while they danced. Tonks and Rowena were exchanging hugs and last minute good-byes as Severus carefully transferred the sleeping child to Remus.

"Congratulations, Severus."

"Thank you," he said, feeling a bit awkward to relinquish his daughter so soon, even if it was just for a short while.

"We'll get Sleeping Beauty here to Grimmauld place and see you two when you get back, all right? Where are you going?"

Severus snorted, "As if I would tell you? It seems as though the last remaining Marauder has been channeling the spirit of the others. How long have you been planning this?"

Remus gave him a slightly wistful smile at the reminder of being the last Marauder.

"Since before Tonks and I got married, of course. When we realized how upset Katrina was over the idea of us adopting her and why she was so upset, we figured this would be the best thing. We explained it to her before our wedding, when we went on our 'family picnic'. Albus helped us draw up the initial papers and put pressure on the Ministry to give us the guardianship rather than a full adoption.

"I'll tell you, mate, you almost didn't make it. The legal guardianship thing expires after one year. If we had gotten to June before you got married, you'd have ruined everything."

Severus shook his head, as much in irritation with himself as with his brother-in-law. There had been signs all along which he simply had overlooked. Not the least of which was her calling them 'mummy' and 'daddy' in German.

He held out his hand, which Remus took, carefully balancing Katrina against his shoulder with the other one.

"Thank you, Remus."

The words were inadequate to the emotion behind them, but Remus seemed to understand. He squeezed Severus' hand a bit tighter for a moment.

"You bet, Severus. I wouldn't have it any other way. We'll look after her, go enjoy your honeymoon."

* * *

"Where are we going?" she whispered as they slipped through the corridors to the dungeon to pick up their luggage.

"Never mind," he said evasively. "It's a surprise."

The torches near Albus' portrait brightened automatically so the portrait could see who was approaching.

"Ah, Rowena! You are a vision! I knew you would be a beautiful bride, again," he said, smiling at her. Fawkes made a soft, crooning sound of contentment from his proper place on the perch just behind the former Headmaster, looking positively resplendent in his vivid red-gold plumage.

"If we are caught because you dawdled to admire my wife I will be exceedingly angry, you Old Meddler," Severus said in tones which were far too fond to be truly threatening. The portrait chuckled, opened and pivoted in his chair so he could continue to talk to them while they gathered their bags and shrunk them for the journey.

"Oh, dear, I take it Remus told you of my part in the disposition of little Katrina?"

"Yes, he did. Was anyone going to bother to inform me of the process?"

"Of course, Severus. Right at the time when your signature was needed. There was no point to tell you beforehand, you would have just refused. Besides, it was fun to have a secret—though very challenging. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a four-year-old child to keep a secret? She wasn't even four yet when this all started. She's a very bright little girl," Albus said. Rowena beamed at him. Severus paused in the act of shrinking the large trunk, which held their luggage.

"Good point… she will make a fine Slytherin," he said decisively.

"Or a Ravenclaw," Rowena teased.

"You are not a Ravenclaw, you are a Slytherin who was mis-sorted," he said firmly.

"Slytherin doesn't take half-bloods, or Muggle-borns for that matter. Katrina won't be in Slytherin any more than I was," she argued.

"You must return after your sabbatical, Severus," Albus' portrait cut in. "Slytherin House needs you as Head now more than ever. They need a good, strong role model. There are many non-pureblood students over the years who could have gone to Slytherin but refused—you know the Hat offers choices. With your strength and excellent reputation, you could restore it to the diversity, pride and honor it ought to have.

"Don't worry about not living at the school—that was a rule instilled during the first war when we needed the Heads right here on the grounds all the time. Filius could fashion alarm wards from Slytherin House to wherever you decide to live, so with a Portkey, you could be here if there was trouble just as quickly as traversing the corridor from your quarters.

"Think about it, won't you?"

Severus put the now shrunken trunk into a sturdy satchel—it was diminished considerably in size, but the weight did not decrease proportionally, making it still remarkably heavy for its size.

"I will think about it," he said, slinging the satchel over one shoulder. "Later. For now, we need to leave before we are missed at the festivities upstairs."

They left through a seldom-used rear door of the castle, easily accessible from one of the back staircases leading out of the dungeons. Joseph—well, one of Severus' house elves at any rate—was already there; holding the reins of the Thestral hitched to Severus' carriage.

"We is wishing you congratulations," he said, bowing low. "We is watching Miss Katie for you until you get home."

Severus handed Rowena into the carriage and then stopped, turning to look sharply at the elf.

"Joseph, did Miss Katie tell you of the adoption?"

The elf brightened visibly and his ears perked forward.

"Is Miss Katie ours now, Sir? She did tell us, yes, but we is thinking that she is just a wee child, she must not be understanding the ways of grown-up wizards."

Severus glanced into the carriage at Rowena, who was trying to suppress giggles.

"Even my own elves conspire against me," he muttered to her, causing her to lose the battle against the laughter. He turned to the elf, "Yes, Joseph, we have adopted Katrina today. She is our daughter. She is at the Lupins' home, but she will live with us when we return. Please prepare her room while we are gone."

The house elf made an undignified sound of delight and clapped his hands.

"Yes, Sir, Master Sevvie!" he said excitedly, and with a 'pop' he was gone.

* * *

A/N: Refresher of German Translations: (thank you Lady Claire) 

Pappi—daddy 

Mutti—mummy 

Frechdachs—brat or rascal, often used affectionately with children 

Mein Engelchen—my little angel 

The lyrics from the song at the wedding have been severely abbreviated in the interest of space and the fact that they are simply not really relevant to the story, but included to add flavor. I deliberately chose the stanzas which referenced the Phoenix and the eagle, though. /grin/  
The information about the Ourorboros symbolism used in their rings was compiled from many different sites, which all said variations of the same theme. The most general one is here:

Ouroboros

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

The Ouroboros is an ancient symbol depicting a snake or dragon swallowing its tail, constantly creating itself and forming a circle. It is associated with alchemy, Gnosticism, and Hermeticism. It represents the cyclical nature of things, eternal return, and other things perceived as cycles that begin anew as soon as they end. In some representations the serpent is shown as half light and half dark, echoing symbols such as the Yin Yang, which illustrates the dual nature of all things, but more importantly, that these opposites are not in conflict.

In alchemy, the ouroboros symbolises the circular nature of the alchemist's opus which unites the opposites: the conscious and unconscious mind.

It is believed to have been inspired by the Milky Way, as some ancient texts refer to a serpent of light residing in the heavens.

. 


	56. Chapter 56: Honeymoon

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

WARNING: This chapter is the Honeymoon. It has been heavily censored by me so as to avoid being excessively graphic. However, it is two consenting, married adults doing what people do on honeymoons. There is very little, if any, important 'plot' stuff in this chapter. If this might possibly offend you, please do NOT read. Feel free to skip on to Chapter 57 and the Epilogue.

* * *

Chapter 56: Honeymoon

* * *

The Thestral took them only as far as Hogsmeade where Severus retrieved a Portkey at the transit station, which took them to Bristol. There was an elegant five-star Wizarding Hotel there, where Severus had booked the Honeymoon suite, of course.

He smirked at her playfully before lifting her easily to carry her through the door to the suite. It was luxurious, with thick plush carpeting and supple leather furniture in the sitting room, a small but well-stocked kitchenette with a cozy table and two chairs, and an enormous bedroom with a massive bed dressed in deep purple and midnight blue. The bedroom even had an enormous en suite bathroom complete with a huge, sunken whirlpool tub.

Each suite, according to the advertisement, had its own designated house elf to provide every possible luxury and convenience.

There was a fireplace in the sitting room and bedroom, the one in the bedroom already roaring merrily. Several lit candles lined the walls in artistic sconces, adding to the soft glowing light of the room.

Severus set her gently onto her feet at the doorway to the bedroom. He put the satchel down and removed the trunk, tapping it with his wand to restore it to normal size for unpacking—later.

"Rowena, come here," he said commandingly. His intense gaze took her breath away as long-banked desire flared instantly to life.

"Wouldn't you rather I change first?" she asked coyly. "Tonks and the girls bought some interesting lingerie for me at my Hen party. I thought I could model it for you?"

He arched one expressive brow and his black eyes darkened impossibly with his own answering passion. His voice was husky with desire.

"Intriguing, but no," he said silkily. "Come here, wife. I will help you out of that princess gown."

She felt as though she glided rather than walked the few steps to his arms, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He caught her up, almost crushing her against him in his ardor.

His tongue sought entrance to her mouth at once, hot and demanding, stroking and seeking. She met the welcome intrusion with her own, sliding and caressing as they wrestled together in joyous passion. He broke the kiss to reach up and remove the glittering headband from her hair and set it carelessly aside on a nightstand next to the bed.

"I knew this would be beautiful on you," he said tenderly as he undid her hair to let it cascade down her back. "I think you must have been the most beautiful bride ever to grace Britain."

"Oh, Severus," she sighed, blushing in pleasure at his rare praise. He smiled at her wickedly, playing his hands through her hair.

"I want to see you dressed in nothing but your hair and that blush," he said, claiming her mouth hungrily again. His hands roved her back in soft, gentle caresses which left tingling fires in their wake. She wanted his hands on her skin, not through thick beaded fabric! His desire seemed to be the same, as shortly the gentle caress became more searching, demanding.

"Where are the bloody buttons on this dress?" he said irritably against her throat.

"Not buttons, hooks," she said breathlessly, her head arched back to bare her neck to his suckling kisses there. "Hidden in the seam in the middle."

He found the hooks and his nimble fingers began to unfasten them, slowly, one by one, toying lazily over each new fraction of an inch of bare skin revealed by his progress.

She clung to him, kissing neck and throat and jaw, tasting him, reveling in the familiar scent of him. Her frustration at his slow teasing was soothed somewhat by her own exploration of his chest as she began to unfasten his never-ending buttons. The cravat was soon gone, thrown forgotten to the floor. The fine silk of his robes felt sensuous beneath her fingers, warm and slick from contact with his body—but it had to go. As each button was undone of the robes and shirt beneath, she licked and kissed the fair skin, toying her fingers through the ebony hair of his chest.

The bodice of her dress was so snug she wore nothing beneath it. When the hooks were undone enough, he gently slid her arms out of her sleeves and peeled it down revealing her, naked to the waist, before him. He impatiently shrugged out of his robes and shirt and cast them aside, baring him likewise, wearing only his trousers.

His intense gaze pierced her as he stared at the expanse of flesh, remembered in its perfect flawlessness. It was not flawless now, however. There were faint white lines crossing the golden skin, remnants of her ordeal. His brow furrowed as he reached out to trace one long, thin scar, but she pushed his hand away.

"Don't," she said urgently. "It's done, over. Don't let shadows of the past spoil this now."

She pulled him close again, nuzzling at his neck and ears, sighing with pleasure at the feel of skin to skin at last.

He held her close, one arm possessively around her waist. The other arm reached out and pulled the blankets down on the bed, revealing satin sheets. He lifted her effortlessly and laid her on the sensuous coolness of the slick fabric, discarding her shoes and his boots and socks before climbing onto the bed to join her. He was amused to notice a silver sickle fall out of one of her shoes and roll away.

He began to relearn the contours of her body with hands and mouth. Molten, open-mouthed kisses at her throat, her collarbone, seeking, tasting. Every sound of pleasure she made ensured he would return to that spot, touch it in more ways, learn just precisely what touch was best. Firm, deep pressure here. Soft, tickling caresses there. His hands stroked her skin as though he was a blind man reading the Braille of her body.

He found the remaining fasteners of her dress and pulled off the heavy masses of silk and beads in one smooth motion, taking her tights with it. She was left laying before him in nothing but a bright blue wisp of nearly transparent lace underpants—and her cascades of hair fanned in disarray beneath her on the bed.

He sat at the edge of the bed to gaze at her intently. He curled one long, thin finger beneath the waistband of the scanty knickers and raised a sardonic brow.

"Were these from your Hen Party?" he asked in amusement.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, her chest heaving from the force of her breathing. "Something blue…"

His piercing gaze and the question were enough to elicit the desired response—she blushed, bright enough to be visible even in the dim lighting. He smirked in satisfaction and grasped the waist of the underpants. Holding his hands against her skin, he glided them down the smooth expanse of her shapely hips and legs in one long, slow stroke as he pulled them off of her. He discarded the garment on the floor with the dress; the vivid blue a stark contrast against the white.

He paused to appreciate the effect, staring at her hungrily until she squirmed wantonly under his searching gaze.

"Severus, please!" she said softly, holding her arms out to him in urgent welcome.

He smirked wickedly and returned hands and mouth to their slow, teasing, steady exploration, gliding up first one slender leg, then the other, ghosting over her torso. He did not avoid her scars, even as they filled him with remorse. Instead he kissed them each tenderly, almost reverently, as he paid homage to her body.

Her hands traced over his skin, but her touch was not so light. She kneaded the hard, sinewy muscles with a firm grasp, tugging at his shoulders. Fingernails scraped in a touch just beyond gentle, the almost-pain an exciting contrast to the need which had long been building within him. He did not want or need to be more aroused than he already was at present, and often shifted to evade her touch, focusing all his attention on her.

She pulled him up to her, kissing him hungrily. His scent ignited her, his touch burned her. For months he had denied her, denied them, what they wanted, needed. She fumbled with the fastening of his trousers. He helped her and removed trousers and pants in one.

He stretched out beside her and she rolled to her side to press herself fully against his body, wholly skin-to-skin at last. He gently pushed her back onto her back and threw one strong leg over hers, as though to hold her in place. He leaned up on one elbow to look at her.

She was exquisite. Flush with desire, her lips swollen and dewy from his kisses, slightly parted from the rapidity of her breathing. Her eyes were dark with desire. She looked wanton. The gentle light of fire and candles flickered over her perspiration-damp skin, causing it to seem to glow with a light of its own.

Every sound, every proof of her desire merely stoked his higher. He deliberately sealed himself from their Bond lest her desire throw his control entirely over the edge. Instead, he watched her body and her face for evidence of it, at last joining them when he knew she was ready.

It was a very long time before they came down from their high. Aftershock waves of the shuddering pleasure still lingered long minutes after their bodies had stilled. She still held him tight, arms and legs wrapped around him in joyous celebration of their reunion at last.

Slowly and gently he slid off of her to lie beside her and pull her into his arms. He did not want to lose the contact just now anymore than she did. Their bodies were sweat-damp, and even with the fire, the room was cool. He pulled up the rest of the bedding to cover them. The satin sheets might have been uncomfortably cool on first contact if not for the warmth of their bodies together.

She nestled against him, her head on his chest, listening to the soothing sound of the beating of his heart, too perfectly content to have any need for words.

* * *

It was still dark when they woke, though neither of them cared to pay attention to time. Her body was utterly relaxed, draped over his, her head on his chest, the feel of her warm and soft and perfect against him. She raised herself up, resting her chin on her hand to gaze down at him. The candles had gone out, or a house elf had extinguished them, leaving only the light of the fading embers of the fire.

"Hi," she said, smiling happily.

He snorted. "Hello yourself, wife."

"You okay?"

"If I am not, it would be churlish of me to say in light of the circumstance, don't you think?" he said, smirking with amusement. "Besides, oughtn't that to be my line?"

She giggled.

"I am quite certain I heard something crass along those lines at your brother's wedding, when his esteemed guests were trying to humiliate him and his new bride as they were leaving. Something about, if she could walk properly after the honeymoon, he'd done something wrong," he said sardonically.

"Severus!" Her giggle turned into a squeal of laughter. "That's positively indecent!"

"Hmmm. Then it matches my thoughts at the moment," he said casting her a feral grin. He was rewarded by the delicious shiver which ran through her he felt through her warm skin against him. "Perhaps you ought to show me what other scraps of lingerie you have hidden in your trunk."

It was too dark to see her blush, but he knew it was there. She lowered herself to kiss him tenderly.

"If I'm going to model expensive lingerie, I need a bath," she said firmly. "Dancing at the wedding made me all sweaty."

"Among other things," he said suggestively. "A bath is an excellent idea; I believe I will join you."

He slid out from under her and went into the bathroom, completely unconcerned with his nakedness. He was exceedingly thin; but wiry, well-defined muscles rippled across his body as he moved with his cat-like grace. The golden light from the fire suited his complexion as well, giving a warm glow to his fair skin.

She heard him move about in the next room and then the sound of running water before he returned to scoop her up effortlessly. She squealed in surprise, but did not resist, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his bare shoulder. It was extremely erotic to be naked in his arms like this and she sighed contentedly as he carried her to the next room.

The tub was indeed enormous, but already seemed nearly filled with scented foam. It was situated in the corner of the room, with mirrored walls on two sides and soft, lavender scented candles in holders on the ledge in front of the mirrors where they reflected the gentle glow. The tub was so large it had steps leading down into it and two molded lounge type chairs along the sides, with massaging bubble jets from neck to feet embedded into the chairs.

He sat on one of these, settling her on his lap so that she was waist-deep in the warm, swirling water. She moved to slide away, to sit on the other chair, but the iron band which was his arm around her waist held her in place.

"How come you get the nice massage chair, then?" she said, pretending to pout.

"Because I did all the work," he said, smirking unrepentantly. "Besides, I'm an old man with numerous chronic aches and pains. If you desire me to perform adequately, I must tend to them judiciously."

"Oh, you!" she exclaimed, laughingly splashing sudsy water into his face. "Old man my hat!"

He blinked and turned his head, but not fast enough, as white foam struck home. Towels and flannels sat neatly stacked along one side of the tub, in easy reach of the occupants within. She grabbed one of the flannels to gently wipe the soap away from his eyes.

He snatched the cloth away from her and smirked at her dangerously. Her breath caught in her throat at the intense look and she shivered again in spite of the warmth of the water.

He wet the flannel and randomly selected a bar of scented soap from a nearby basket full of the multicolored bars, and lathered the cloth. With the slow, intense deliberation that he gave to everything he did, he began to bathe her. He was not a man to do anything by halves and this was no different. First he lathered and then duplicated the motions to wipe away the soap.

He began with her hand, slowly and sensuously washing and massaging each finger with his own, beneath the sudsy cloth. The natural nubs of the terrycloth were just rough enough to be an additional stimulation, like thousands of tiny cat-tongues lapping at her skin. He massaged her sensitive palm, rubbing strong thumbs firmly over it; expertly releasing tension she hadn't known was there.

From her hand the seeking cloth slid up her arm, circling it gently to touch every millimeter of skin with long, gentle strokes. Up her arm to her shoulder, collarbone and neck. Even the delicate shell of her ears and behind them. Down her neck again to shoulder, arm, and hand on the other side, repeating the tender attentions there. The entire process was repeated as he rinsed the soap out of the flannel and now chased it slowly over her skin to wipe the residual away.

His eyes followed the cloth as though memorizing her everywhere. The intensity of his tender scrutiny was like another touch. He said nothing. He didn't even kiss her, so focused was he on his task. Yet she felt precious, like a rare and delicate flower he was tending cautiously—perhaps in his case like a rare and delicate potions ingredient.

She sat obediently; rapturously gazing at his face, awed at the expressions of tenderness and passion she could read there. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful, beyond earthly beauty.

The questing flannel slid back up her arm to return to her chest, her torso, the nubby cloth heightening her sensitivity, as though electrifying her wherever it passed.

His dark eyes flew to her face, then, watching her expression. He had an indecently smug expression on his face at the desire clearly written in hers.

Again he rinsed the soap-slickened cloth and tormented the trembling skin by precisely repeating his every motion before, now to wash the soap away.

He adjusted her position on his lap, moving her away slightly to give him freer access to her legs. The cloth felt like a living thing beneath his hand, like a thing with a mind of its own. It was a living tongue, each tiny nub like a taste bud seeking to memorize her flavor, licking at her like a lolly, tasting each morsel of her flesh. His hand trailed down one slender thigh and calf, teasing at the erogenous zones of her inner thigh and behind her knee. The cloth gently licked and tasted her ankle, toying with the sensitive skin around her delicate heel and tendon.

The consuming thing massaged her foot, playing suggestively with each toe, releasing tension in the ball and arch of her foot, while causing tension of a very different sort deep inside her abdomen. Slowly, it climbed back up her leg again. Her thighs parted brazenly, her body yearning for the touch there. His caress across her inner thigh was feather-light, delicious, teasing… maddening. With slow deliberation, he exactly mirrored the attention of the first leg and foot with the second.

She was over waist-deep in the water; there was no need to rinse her legs. She was immensely sorry not to have the delicious sensations repeated yet again.

Once more, he repositioned her on his lap, as easily as though she was a rag doll. She felt so relaxed and languorous in spite of the desire burning within her, she almost felt like one.

This time he turned her to face completely away from him, settling her between his legs and pushing gently forward on her shoulder so she leaned away. He gathered the damp mass of her hair and put it over one of her shoulders to gain free access to her back. He must have also collected a second flannel, because she could feel both of his hands moving over her back beneath the gently roughened cloth.

Long, slow strokes of his hands massaged and washed her back and shoulders, as though every inch of her skin was precious to him. Wherever he touched her ignited tiny fires of passion until her entire body felt like one raging inferno of ardor. She was a quivering dichotomy—simultaneously utterly relaxed and languid—and yet fever-bright with desire.

The talented hands slid down her arms again and pulled her back to recline against him. She moaned in contentment, as she felt encased by him, his strong arms around her, his long legs along side hers, his hard body behind her, holding her close. She could feel his hot breath at her ear as he began to nibble and lick the flesh he had washed.

The position was reminiscent of the Thestral rides, the erotic way he had held her and touched her then—driving her wild even fully clothed. This was the resultant fantasy at last made real. She leaned her head against his shoulder, joyously giving him freer access to her throat and shoulder.

His mouth teased and tormented all the erogenous places he could reach. The tender joining of neck and shoulder, the almost hyper sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, the delicate shell of her ear—none of it escaped his grazing teeth and sipping kisses.

His breath caught in a barely stifled groan, and he shifted her again with more urgency to his actions. He lifted her easily in the buoyant water, settling her back on his lap. His soft moan of satisfaction mingled with hers as they joined.

They rode the waves to the end, floating in a sea of bliss, weakly echoed by the warm, swirling water surrounding them.

* * *

She insisted on wading through the ocean looking for 'perfect' seashells to take home to Katrina until her robes were wet to the waist and her lips were blue with cold. At that point, he would no longer hear arguments of 'just one more' or 'but look at that one over there' and insisted she return to the suite.

"Now, go take a hot shower before you freeze off something of which I have grown fond, and I will order supper," he said imperiously. "When you get out, you may show me what it is our sister-in-law believes is worth claim to my favor."

Her teeth were chattering too much for her to give coherent argument, or even invite him to shower with her—though they had done that several times to their mutual enjoyment. She nodded obediently and disappeared into the bathroom.

Half an hour later he was sitting on the sofa before a warm fire, having used several warming charms in the room as well to ensure she would not be chilled.

"All right, I'm coming out, but you have to close your eyes," she said. This had become enough of a ritual over the last few days that he did not argue, but set his book aside and closed his eyes expectantly. He could hear her soft tread on the carpet and scent her shampoo as she passed by him.

"Okay, you can open them."

His profound silence and intent gaze embarrassed her as much now as the first time, but she tried not to fidget.

This one was a tiny scrap of red lace. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised to find it was made from a single thread! Her hair was straight and loose, having just been dried from her shower, and she had pulled some of it forward as though trying to hide behind it.

It did, in fact, conceal more than the garment did.

However, the incongruous attempt at modesty clashed so violently with the brazen adornment he found it all the more erotic.

This bit of lingerie her sister-in-law had purchased for her was very likely to become his favorite, at least of those he had seen so far. It started at her shoulders to plunge in a daring 'V' to the junction of her thighs, barely widening enough along the way to cover the important bits. More of her torso was revealed than covered, as the 'V' did not join until just in time to cover the dark mass of curls at her pubic bone.

Thin, spaghetti-strap ties at each side of her waist joined the front 'V' to the back to accent her narrow waist and the gentle curve of her hips. This was merely a mockery of a nod to 'modesty', as it in no way held the article 'closed' beneath her arms.

"Tonks bought it," she reminded him, as though worried that he would think she would chose such a thing for herself. "She thought you would like it. She said to tell you that you owe her one," she said, fidgeting in spite of herself in the face of his silence.

He said nothing, but arched a brow and made a turning motion with his finger, indicating that he wanted to see the back. She hesitated, a blush suffusing her face, but turned.

Her hair was almost, but not quite long enough to conceal the portion of the thing causing her embarrassment. Indeed, her hair spilling down her back nearly concealed the entire bit of useless lace. Except for one, tiny detail.

The back ended in a thong.

"Very well. You may buy your sister-in-law something nice for her upcoming wedding anniversary," he said, smirking at her in sardonic amusement when she turned back to face him. "Something _very_ nice, though tell her she lost points for the color. How dare she buy my wife something in Gryffindor red?"

She giggled nervously and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck—which was not the way to stay dressed—such as she was. He kissed her warmly and let his hands trail over the exposed areas—where he had plenty of room to 'play'. Unfortunately, the house elf who attended this suite was unfailingly prompt, and their meal appeared on the table with a 'pop' without any sign of the creature.

"I believe I know what I will have for dessert," he said silkily.

"Mmm," she agreed, kissing him languorously once more. "Sounds delicious. I'm just going to put on something warm, I'll be right back."

His arm tightened around her, preventing her from leaving his lap. He was not as adept at 'doing' her hair as she was, or even the werewolf, nor did he wish to be. He liked it loose. However, on this occasion, he managed well enough to twist the silky soft masses before tying it in a knot that was quite sufficient to keep it up and off of her back.

"Don't be ridiculous. I want to see you in that," he said, with a wicked smirk.

"Severus!" she said, blushing. "I'd feel less indecent if I was wearing nothing at all!"

"Precisely," he said, leering at her teasingly. "I was unaware I was capable of such lascivious thoughts, but I find I am enjoying them. You will just have to attempt to learn to tolerate the result."

She gave a very exaggerated 'put upon' sigh, and pretended to slump wearily against his shoulder.

"I suppose I will learn to manage," she said, spoiling the effect by giggling.

The evening was rather chilly, causing her to shiver frequently. Then again, the responsibility for that might have been the hungry feasting of her husband's eyes on her body during the meal. Whatever the reason, he enjoyed supper a great deal.

They both enjoyed dessert.

* * *

A/N: One of my betas believes very strongly that this chapter is entirely superfluous, and obviously I agree—I almost did not list this chapter at all on FFN for fear of getting myself thrown out of their archive. It was difficult to censor this down enough to be certain to meet their rules and still have anything left worth posting.

Please email me if you would like to receive the link to the uncensored version.

I am surprised, considering how much I enjoy reading it, to find that the 'steamy bits' are actually very difficult to write without feeling repetitive. I hope this meets your approval. Comments lovingly adored. On to Chapter 57 and the Epilogue!


	57. Chapter 57: Sabbatical and Homecoming

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

* * *

Chapter 57: Sabbatical and Homecoming

* * *

The honeymoon was glorious, but like all good things had to eventually come to an end. They returned to Hogwarts on the Saturday before the end of the Easter holiday and unpacked quickly. Rowena noticed her things from Grimmauld Place had now been brought here to Severus' quarters, making his shelves more crowded than ever, as well as necessitating an additional wardrobe and dresser to be placed in his bedroom for her clothing. He said nothing about the changes—though his raised brow when he caught sight of something new spoke volumes.

The house elves had out-done themselves, painting the 'spare' room for Katrina in a soft blue and then decorating the walls with a mural of flowering vines and trees, complete with enchanted painted butterflies which flitted from flower to flower. The dresser, wardrobe, and shelves were all painted white, with a matching pattern of flowers. The shelves were already half-full of toys, books and puzzles as the elves had clearly moved many of her belongings already.

"Henry is the artist," Severus said dryly when he opened the room to inspect it. "He tends to be a bit over-emotional, but he is quite creative. He was the one who helped with the garden when I lived with my mother."

"He's my favorite," she said. "Antoine is too bossy and Joseph is so serious. But Henry, he's sweet. I like him the best."

"You would," he said with fond annoyance. "Come, wife, let us go and retrieve our daughter."

"Mummy! Daddy! You're home! You're home!" The blonde ball of bouncing energy nearly knocked them flat as she raced up the hall to tackle them with her exuberance.

Severus picked her up first and hugged her, turning slightly so that his face was to the wall. The powerful emotion she felt through their Bond, even as he kept it mostly sealed from her, matched her own joy which was so overwhelming as to be painful. To hear her call them 'Mummy' and 'Daddy' and know that it was true at last brought her almost to tears of happiness again. She knew Severus would not want to be seen by Remus or Tonks as being overwhelmed with emotion of any sort and so she set off down the corridor to intercept them if they should be following behind their niece.

"I figured it must be you two," Remus said looking up from his book as Rowena poked her head into the drawing room. "Katrina's been bouncing on her toes all day waiting for you to get home."

He set his book down and came to greet her, hugging her warmly.

"Thank you, Remus," she said in a voice thick again with tears. "Thank you so much."

"Enough, honestly. You're welcome, say no more of it, okay?" he said tenderly. "How was your trip?"

"Wotcher, Rowena. Look what I found loitering in our entryway, love," said Tonks as she entered the room with Severus and Katrina close behind. "We've got her things all packed, though your house-elves moved a lot of if while you were gone. We've left a few things here for her to play with when she visits. She's always welcome for a sleep-over with Auntie Tonks and Uncle Remus any time, right poppet?"

Tonks pulled gently on a wild blonde curl and then released it so that it sprang back and Katrina giggled and nodded.

"The trip was lovely, of course, but it's wonderful to be home," Rowena said, beaming at her husband and daughter as she answered her brother's question.

"My wife tells me that I have you to thank for one of her wedding gifts?" Severus said, raising an amused brow at Tonks, who hooted with laughter.

"That's right—I said to tell you, if you liked it, you owed me one."

"Severus!" Rowena cried, blushing crimson as Remus laughed as well—clearly his wife had let him in on the 'joke'.

"Acceptable," he said, ignoring Rowena and her brother. "I 'owe' you, then."

He smirked haughtily at the Lupins as he took Rowena by the arm and left.

* * *

The final term of the year was the most pleasant Severus could ever recall spending in the school either as student or teacher. Granted, nothing could alter the fact the vast majority of his students were absolute dunderheads, nor could anything remove the tedious task of grading countless student papers and exams written by said dunderheads. There were still miscreants lurking in corridors past curfew or sneaking into the restricted section of the library or even trying to slip into the Forbidden Forest.

However, he was free. He no longer had to worry about his next summons, his next 'orders' from Voldemort. The war was over. He had a wife and daughter who seemed to go out of their way to make his life more pleasant whenever possible—even when that meant leaving him entirely alone.

"Severus, I've told Katrina she's not to come into your lab unless it's an absolute emergency," Rowena said to him one night after Katrina was in bed, two weeks after classes had resumed. He set down the papers he was grading irritably, chaffing at the interruption.

"What?" he snapped.

The honeymoon had been bliss, a slice of heaven he had never thought to have or deserve. The first few days back at the castle had been pleasant, if disconcerting. He was finding the transition from reclusive bachelor to husband and father complicated and arduous.

Katrina was a very early riser and often woke in the wee hours of the night. She thought nothing of bounding into their room, regardless of the hour, as though to check that they were really there and asking every morning, "You're my mummy and daddy forever now, right?" –apparently needing the reassurance that this was not another 'temporary' arrangement.

She and Rowena spent a great deal of time in the library pouring over books and maps as they talked about the places they would go over the course of the next year. Often they would stop by his office or lab if they knew he had a free period, bringing tea or biscuits or yet another crayon drawing, 'just for you, daddy', so he was starting to feel very short-tempered and jumpy, without realizing why.

This was what he wanted; why did it make him so irritable?

It was his beloved wife, who seemed even now to understand him better than he understood himself, who provided the answer.

"Well, you're a very private person. You've been almost entirely alone most of your life. I can tell you're getting short tempered with us and I realized we haven't been allowing you any time to yourself.

"Katrina and I have talked about it, so I don't want you to be upset or worry that she's upset. I've told her we have a new rule—we don't go into your lab at all and if you want to be alone here in our rooms, or wherever we end up staying next year as we travel around, then a closed door is off-limits except in an emergency.

"I even carefully defined what counted as an emergency," she added with a cheeky grin.

He snorted, "I am certain she can grasp the concept with more ease than many of my students."

"Maybe, but she did ask me if Joseph's fresh-baked chocolate-chip biscuits counted as an emergency."

"No," he said, smirking now with amusement, "However, his lemon tarts do if they are still warm."

She laughed. "Okay then, duly noted."

She picked up her book and bent to kiss him chastely on the cheek before turning to go into their bedroom to read. When the door was shut, he sent her a strong sense of gratitude and affection through their bond and resumed his marking in solitude.

None of which had any effect whatsoever on the severity of his expectations for his students.

* * *

The rumor mill at Hogwarts churned inexorably onward, always providing the 'newest' information with varying degrees of accuracy. By spending so much time in the Library, Rowena and Katrina were often 'in the know'.

The Burrow was being rebuilt with funds provided by the Ministry out of war compensation fines they had extracted from the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, and a number of other convicted and incarcerated Death Eaters. This was of course true of many of the Wizarding families who had suffered property damage during the war. The Ministry did seem to be putting forth concerted effort to ensure that victims were compensated as much as possible.

Albus' protection, whatever he had done to the castle, seemed to still be going strong, though no one could guess how long it would last. The students who had been injured in the battle—or even who acquired injuries by other means—healed faster and more thoroughly under Poppy's care than ever before. She went the entire spring flu season without once asking Severus for another batch of Pepper-Up potion.

This seemed to be magnified for Severus and Rowena. Severus noticed since the wedding that his chronic aches, which he had used to tease Rowena on their honeymoon but were nonetheless real—were gone. He wondered if the Phoenix tear which was part of Albus' last 'goodbye' had somehow served to increase the effect of—whatever it was about the castle which made the inhabitants within it heal faster.

Regardless of the cause, the result was the thin white lines of Rowena's scars, which had caused him so much remorse, had completely vanished since their honeymoon. His scars were fading as well, even the deep, angry scar on his back from the fire and the small puckered scar on his forearm which was all that remained of his Dark Mark—both all but gone by the end of term.

There was much more chatter and talk than usual at the meal tables during the last weeks of term, even in spite of the exams. Everyone received their traditional Hogwarts autograph book concealed inside a stuffed animal of their House emblem and passed these about among their friends, getting names and making promises to 'keep in touch'.

It was odd to be leaving the castle. Severus would not permit anyone but himself or Antoine to pack his own belongings. Minerva insisted she would not give his quarters to anyone else while he was away. But, as he would not be returning to live there regardless of what decision he made at the end of the year, he was determined to remove everything now. He did leave his lab as it was—there was too much to move and no place yet to move it to. He moved Albus' portraits to the door to his lab rather than his barren quarters on the day they departed.

Most of the things which would not be needed in their travels were carefully packed into heavily charmed and warded chests, precisely labeled and stored in the barn on their property. Already the debris from the former building had been removed and a skeletal framework of the ground floor was erected and partially covered with walls and windows.

Joseph would travel with them, while Henry and Antoine would return to the homestead to oversee the building process.

On the last day of term, after the last student was seen off and good-byes were said to the seventh-year students who would not be returning, the Snape family climbed into their carriage and set off.

* * *

They started their adventure by leaving England behind altogether as they traveled at a leisurely pace around Germany. Severus and Katrina were greatly amused, often to the point of laughter, at Rowena's attempt to speak the language.

They did it all, wherever they went. Splashed in the ocean, visited major tourist attractions and sleepy little villages, Muggle and Wizarding alike. They routinely sent home souvenirs and occasionally Portkeyed home to leave Katrina with Becky and John for a weekend while Severus and Rowena had some time on their own. He even routinely took her dancing on these occasions if she asked—for no other reason than she wanted to go.

He was pleased enough with her collection of lingerie he made a point to buy her something new to add to it in every country they visited; Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, so many it soon became a blur.

Sometimes Severus would stop into an Apothecary and begin a conversation with the proprietor. On these occasions, Rowena was forced to concede perhaps Caitlin Garvey had had a point—they were invariably rude and condescending until Severus' intelligence and snark made it clear they were not dealing with a dunderhead. As soon as it was obvious the conversation would be a lengthy one, Rowena would discreetly disappear with Katrina to go sightseeing or shopping. They would return hours later to find him still conversing with the individual, often with a 'closed' sign on the door, in some semblance of professional camaraderie.

Five months into their travels found them in America at last, though it was November, so he started them in South America to avoid anything approaching winter. He even swam in the ocean in Cancun, though it was mostly to prevent Katrina from being washed away in the undertow—there was no way they'd keep her OUT of the water.

So close to Texas, it was obligatory they visit the 'cowboys' and indeed, Dylan was expecting them.

* * *

The ranch was beautiful; the house on it enormous and well kept. They would be staying at the ranch house itself, which for Rowena was a pleasant change from the constant hotels. The traveling was exciting, but she found herself becoming fatigued with it and longed for the stability of home.

"Well, here yah are, it's right grand to see yah again," Dylan said, greeting them warmly. Katrina beamed at him, wearing the huge hat he had given her when he left Hogwarts. Only the fact that Rowena put her hair into two fluffy ponytails prevented the thing from falling down to her chin, but Dylan was delighted.

When rooms had been arranged and baggage distributed, Rowena and Dylan found time to visit while Severus put Katrina down for her nap.

"I never had time to ask you while you were at Hogwarts—what happened? Obviously Josh didn't marry the girl?"

"Nope. But don' yah go thinkin' that Josh ain't an honorable man, now, 'cause he is. Fact o'the matter is the gal up and run off with his younger brother, day b'fore the weddin'."

"NO!" Rowena said, aghast.

"Yup. 'S'alright, though. His family's happy 'cause the two ranches are connected now. They split the place right in half, gave Josh the half that borders mine and gave his brother the half that borders hers," Dylan said, beaming.

"Oh, but wasn't he angry?" Rowena asked. Dylan shrugged.

"More over the thought o'splittin' up the ranch, right? He loved that place and his brother's none too good with managin' stuff. Always callin' over here for advice."

"But you're happy," Rowena said, smiling.

"Right' yah are there," he answered, beaming. "Josh is, too. He never fancied the gal anyway."

Josh entered from the rear door of the house then, taking off muddy boots and washing his hands at a sink by the door. Severus came down the stairs from Katrina's room at the same time.

"Howdy," said Josh with a tip of his head and a polite smile. "Made the trip all right, then?"

"Little Katrina's all tuckered out," Dylan said, grinning. "Sev… erus' just put her t'bed for a nap. We'll have ta wait 'til later to take them 'round the place."

He turned to Rowena.

"We figured it'd be fun ta saddle up some horses and take y'all 'round the ranch. We got a real tame old mare for Katrina to ride. Early mornin's best for that anyways—b'fore it gets too hot."

"That sounds fun, Dylan. I feel like all this traveling has tired me out, too. I think I might just go join Katrina for that nap," she glanced apologetically at Severus, hating to leave him alone with two people whose company he was unlikely to enjoy, but he was surprisingly solicitous of her.

"Aw, honey, you do look a bit like a wiltin' rose," said Dylan as Severus took her arm to take her upstairs. "Yah go on up an' have a nap and we'll let yah know when supper's on. Josh is a right fine chef, I can tell yah.

"Severus, if yah get bored, I took the liberty of stoppin' in the apothecary in town and picked up some of our Potions journals from over here. Didn't know if ours would be any differ'nt from yers there across the pond, but yah're welcome to have a look-see."

Severus paused on the bottom step, a bit taken aback by this hospitality—he had been used to considering the cowboy a barbarian.

"Thank you, Howard. I might do that when I am certain my wife is comfortable," he said before guiding her up the stairs.

* * *

Her fatigue lingered for the rest of the visit with Dylan and Josh. She did her best to conceal it so as not to spoil Katrina's fun or to leave Severus to the dubious enjoyment of their company without her. Unfortunately, by the end of the week, she was decidedly headachy and moody as a result of the fatigue. When they were packing to leave and discussing their next destination, she asked to go home, at least for a little while.

"I hate to be a drag, Severus, but I think all this travel is getting to me. I wondered if we couldn't just go home for a bit. There's plenty of room at Grimmauld place if our house isn't done enough, or we could stay with my parents," she said.

"We will go home," he said decisively. "I've had word from Antoine. The main portions of the house are essentially complete. You will want to assist with the decisions for the things yet to be done at any rate—draperies, paint, carpet and the like. If we wish to resume our travels, we can do so at any time.

"Besides," he added, casting her a sly glance, "I have not yet given you your wedding present, which is there."

"Oh really?" she asked in mock indignation. "Well, you're not the only one in this family capable of being sneaky you know. It just so happens that YOUR wedding present is there, too."

She stuck out her tongue at him playfully, which earned her a swat on her bottom and they finished packing.

* * *

"Oh!" she cried when they arrived at the house. For this first visit, they left Katrina with her grandparents until they could make certain it was suitable to live in while it was being finished. "I had no idea it would be so huge! Is this what it looked like before?"

"No, it is far better than what it looked like before, though not as large. Nothing on the third floor is complete at all, but then I have no idea what we would need all that space for, so it is of no import. I wanted to restore the house. If we do not have specific need for the rooms, we will at least not lack for storage."

The grounds around the stately building had been lovingly cleared of all signs of decay and neglect. Trees were pruned, hedges shaped, and fence line restored. It was winter, so the grass was buried beneath snow and the flowerbeds were covered with straw, but it was the barrenness of well-tended order, so one could imagine the flowers which would arise in the spring.

This was an image assisted by the cobblestone path, which started at the main gate and lead to the house, then around it and also branched off in several directions. The first branch went to the right to encircle the magnolia tree and rose bush and even a new wrought-iron bench there. The branch to the left led to the barn. Everywhere, the path was completely cleared of snow and ice.

The building was three stories tall; 'L' shaped, with Victorian style architecture, complete with a wrap-around porch. He had asked for her input on styles of houses, showing her various photos and floor plans from the builders. He had no preference, while she had strongly favored the Victorian, so the choice was easy.

"Well then, come on!" she said eagerly. "Henry's been helping me—your wedding present should be in back… though obviously I haven't seen it myself yet, so I hope it's okay."

She grabbed his hand and eagerly pulled him down the new cobblestone path, following it around to the back of the house.

"Yes, there!" she said, turning to watch his face expectantly, as eagerly as Katrina did when waiting for him to praise her crayon drawings. He blinked in surprise and stepped forward slowly.

Where the garden had been, there was a small greenhouse. Henry was inside, carefully tending the plants within. She followed him inside, still watching his reaction, smiling. Henry must have told her all of the varieties of plants in the original garden. If there had been one before which was not here now, Severus could not have named what it was. There were other rare plants which were entirely new.

"The greenhouse is portable. I thought you might like to be outside when the weather's nice, but it's too hard to maintain charms year-round for something this size. We can put it up in the winter and take it down when it's warm enough. I didn't think to ask you if you wanted it in the same place as before… I wanted it to be a surprise… I think it wouldn't be too hard to move the plants in the spring, if you don't like it here…" she said, babbling uncertainly in the face of his stoic silence.

"Are you mad? You can't move these, they'd never bloom again," he said, aghast at the very suggestion as he gingerly stroked the petals of a red flower blooming on a cactus-like plant.

He looked at her at last, finally paying enough attention to the Bond to sense her anxiety at his apparent ambivalence to her gift.

"This is exactly where I would have put it, Rowena. Where I intended to put it when I had time to address it. It is perfect. Thank you," he said, pulling her into his arms to kiss her warmly. She melted against him with a sweet sigh of happiness and he felt desire surge within him. No matter how many times he made love to her, he would never tire of it! He finally broke the kiss and stepped away, taking her by the hand.

"Come, I want to look inside the house now. I fear that my gift will pale in comparison," he said slyly, "but there is no use postponing the inevitable."

As far as she was concerned, the entire house was her gift!

The rooms were spacious and airy, with huge windows letting in light from every angle. A wide, open staircase descended in the center of the main floor, with a spacious sitting room on one side and a dining room and library to the other and additional doors leading to more rooms beyond what she could see from where she stood in the corridor. All the rooms were bare, awaiting their decisions on color schemes and furnishings, just as he had told her.

Up the stairs, their bedroom was the first room, large and bright with windows on two sides, a private bath with a sunken tub just like the one from their honeymoon, a large fireplace and a spacious closet. The room just across the hall from theirs was obviously Katrina's. This room was the only one she had seen so far which was remotely 'done'. It was painted in the same style as her room at Hogwarts had been, with thick green carpeting the color of grass to match the green of the flowering vines painted on the walls. Her bed was already here, a dresser, shelves with toys and a closet with most of her clothes.

"Now close your eyes," he said imperiously as they left this room to go to the one next to theirs. She cheerfully obeyed and he carefully led her to the door. She heard it open and felt soft carpet beneath her feet as he positioned her where he wanted her to be. She could hear him step away before he said, "You may open your eyes."

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, was the sardonic, amused smirk of her husband, who looked indecently pleased with himself. He was sitting in a chair directly in front of her. She smiled at him happily and then looked about the room.

She thought her heart would break.

It was a nursery, lovingly constructed down to the last detail.

Pale yellow walls had balloons in bright, primary colors floating across them as though on a gentle breeze. A white crib stood in one corner, the perfect distance away from the windows or dangerous drapery cords. A changing table was already stocked with tiny nappies and brand-new infant pajamas in neutral colors. Soft receiving blankets adorned the crib, as well as a magical mobile similar to what she had given to Elizabeth—except it was not based on Quidditch. These objects were cauldrons being stirred, a mortar and pestle grinding, a knife precisely chopping and a tiny pan-balance scale tipping slowly from side to side. The chair in which Severus was sitting was a cushioned rocker-recliner in the same soft blue as the carpet, situated near a sunny window, just waiting for use to rock a baby.

"Severus…," she croaked, hoarsely, fighting back tears. She shook her head, unable to speak.

"Do you not wish to have my child, Rowena?" he asked gently, still looking at her with that calm half-smirk.

"Oh yes," she said, and it was almost a sob, "but I can't… I thought my father told you… what… what He did…"

"What Voldemort did is nothing but a bad memory."

"No! It's not. Daddy couldn't heal…" she stopped short, gazing at him imploringly. She had wanted this so much—even when she pretended not to. She never thought he would want any other children besides Katrina and had determined to be happy—she WAS happy—this was a small price to pay considering what she could have lost. It was just so painful to be reminded of it in such a stark way. "Maybe we could adopt…"

"Rowena, how do you feel?" he said, his brow arched almost impatiently.

"What?" The question startled her—wasn't it obvious? How did he think she felt?

"How – do – you – feel?" he said again, enunciating every word. "Physically, not emotionally."

"Fine. A little tired from so much traveling but…" Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him, unwilling to give voice to the question which suddenly sprang into her head.

There was no possible way she could be pregnant! Even if by some miracle she wasn't sterile from what You-Know-Who had done to her, Severus used a contraceptive charm on himself ages ago, when they were married the first time. That had to be consciously cancelled with a counter-charm to negate it….

"Oh…!"

"Yes, 'oh'," he said and the far-too-pleased-with-himself smirk increased ten-fold. "Perhaps you should pay closer attention to your cycles? Or bother to run a diagnostic on yourself when you are feeling out of sorts?"

She couldn't stand it any longer; she pulled out her wand and did the diagnostic.

She was pregnant.

* * *

"You knew! Why didn't you say something?" she asked, her mind still reeling in surprise.

"I did not know, I suspected. I believe it was the Phoenix tear, or the residual effects of Albus' meddling with the school, or perhaps both. I do not believe it was the castle alone, because you still had visible scars on our honeymoon, which were gone by the time term ended. If external scars could heal so completely, why not internal ones as well?"

"Don't you think you should have said something to me? What if I had wanted to wait a while before having children?" she said, smiling teasingly. When she had gotten over the initial shock, she came and sat on his lap. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder.

"I did not want to get your hopes up if I was wrong. I have seen you with infants and children often enough, I was confident you would not be disappointed." He tilted his head so he could look into her eyes. "You are not disappointed I trust?"

"No," she said emphatically. "How long have you known?"

"I've suspected for over a month. I was not certain until we arrived at the cowboy's ranch. You have not taken an afternoon nap in all the time I have known you."

"I might have just been tired from traveling!" she said indignantly.

"Yes, but you were also over six weeks late on your cycle. That was why he gave you that old nag to ride when we examined his property, in spite of your insistence you could manage a more spirited animal. I informed him of my suspicion and asked him to take that into consideration as he planned your activities."

"You told Dylan Howard that you thought I was pregnant before you told ME?" she said in mock outrage.

"Yes," he said unrepentantly.

"You are positively… " she sputtered, unable to think of a word to describe what he was.

"Devious? Cunning? Duplicitous? Wily?" he supplied.

"Sneaky!" she exclaimed.

"I believe the word you are looking for is 'Slytherin'," he said, haughtily.

"No, the word I'm looking for is 'wonderful'. I love you," she said, giving up all pretense of outrage and kissing him tenderly.

"This is, perhaps, as good as a fully restored rare magical plant garden and accompanying greenhouse?" he asked, breaking off the kiss to trail tasting kisses down her jaw.

"I don't know about that. I think I went to a lot more work on the greenhouse than you did for the baby," she said, laughing, tilting her head back to allow him freer access.

"Mmmm, true," he said, nuzzling the sensitive flesh behind her ear. "Perhaps I should continue my 'work' just to make certain it is done properly."

"I think maybe you should," she agreed.

He stood with her in his arms and went back to their room. With a negligent wave of his wand, he conjured a large, thick sheepskin rug onto the bare floor in front of the fireplace. Another wave lit the fire and a final wave warmed the room. He laid her gently onto the rug and joined her there with a dry smirk.

"I believe this is one of the typical romantic fantasies of most women—to be intimate with their lover on a soft rug before a roaring fire, is it not? It is one of my obligations as your husband to answer these fantasies, no matter how nonsensical, since you have no other recourse."

She couldn't suppress a giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I have no idea if this is a 'typical' fantasy. You're here with me, we have Katrina and soon we'll have a baby together. I can't imagine wanting anything more."

She had to admit, however that this was quite nice… the fire was warm, the thick, plush rug beneath her was very, very soft; and Severus' body lying hard and firm over hers was incredibly stimulating.

He was staring at her and she again felt as though he was reading every thought of her soul. His fathomless black eyes bored into hers, his black hair falling forwards to curtain their faces. Her heart pounded against his chest as he lowered his mouth to kiss her.

As their bodies united, so did their souls through the Bond. They were Home.

* * *


	58. Epilogue

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

Please see my LiveJournal at weasleyfan for the author's notes related to this chapter. I simply did not want to put anything at the end of the end. Comments, 'fixes' and reviews will be lovingly adored forever. "Complete" in no way implies "perfect". I hope you have enjoyed this journey with me.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

The sitting room was crowded and noisy as the occupants chatted and sipped on various beverages provided by an attentive house elf. Children ran noisily in one door and out the other, screaming and yelling.

Molly Weasley and Becky Lupin bustled about helping to keep children in line—or at least keep the noise to a dull roar.

Ron Weasley sat next to Hermione on a sofa near the window. They seemed to be the only couple in the room not chasing after screeching toddlers, but his eyes were nervously upon her more than on any other thing in the room. Hermione looked calm and radiant, her hands folded comfortably across the great swell of her abdomen, clearly late in pregnancy.

They had chosen to wait a while after finishing school, before having children, and now were happily expecting their first. Arthur Weasley and Dylan Howard sat near them, discussing some new legislation recently proposed at the Ministry.

Remus and Tonks Lupin chatted with Harry Potter and Ginny near a table covered with a wide variety of edibles. Tonks also appeared to be expecting; though she was still at the stage where no one would mention it unless they were absolutely certain... for fear of being mistaken.

"Things going okay at Hogwarts, Remus?" Harry asked conversationally.

"Better than could be expected," Remus said with his usual cheerfulness. "There will always be that little bit of rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but it's really much more of an intense but friendly competition these days, rather than the nastiness it used to be."

"It helps that the Heads of those two houses are brothers-in-law with wives who would let them have it if they didn't behave themselves," said Tonks with an outrageous wink to Harry and Ginny, who both laughed.

"Well, I think it was the obvious choice to make you Head of Gryffindor, Remus," said Ginny emphatically. "Once you were given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, it just made sense. I mean, McGonagall couldn't do it anymore—the Headmistress of the school can't also be Head of a House."

"Yeah, but one thing I want to know," said Harry, looking inquisitively at Remus, "I heard Snape was offered the job before you were, when he took that year's sabbatical and they were trying to entice him back. How come he never took it, after wanting it so much for all those years?"

"I don't know," said Remus with a shrug. "I think, honestly, he never really wanted it that badly to begin with. Potions is his true passion as far as work goes. Severus is a perfectionist. I think he just hated seeing incompetence in the position. He did ask who would get the job if he refused. I've taken it as a high compliment he turned it down when he was told I was the next choice."

Ginny giggled. "Well, that's about the only kind of compliment he'd ever give—the kind which didn't require he actually SAY anything."

"Yeah, well, I still think he's awfully strict. Between McGonagall as Headmistress and him as Deputy Head, it's no wonder things are quiet around there."

They all chuckled their agreement.

* * *

Three little boys of about four years of age raced out of the house and down the steps of the porch. Bright sunshine illuminated a spacious garden with a swing hanging from one tall old tree, two fat ponies grazing lazily in its shade, and two little girls with dolls, fancy hats, and miniature tea things sitting beneath another. One of the little girls appeared several years older than all the other children, while the other was approximately the same age as the boisterous boys.

"Let's play Death Eaters and Phoenixes!" shouted one little boy exuberantly, when Molly had finally reached the end of her patience and banished them all outside so the adults could have some quiet within.

"No way, not if I have to be Moldy Voldy again!" sulked another little boy.

"You ought to be Voldemort, though. You are the only one who can do that thing with your eyes," reasoned a third boy, calmly.

All three were very similar in appearance, with very dark hair and comparable stature, leaving only the different eye colors to differentiate them to a stranger.

"I get to be the Hero that kills you!" shouted the first boy again, brandishing a branch 'wand', "Zap! Take that, you're a Muggle!"

"No! I'm not playing. You guys always kill me. It's not fair," said the second boy.

"C'mon, Sirius, you gotta do it," wheedled the first boy. He became over-enthusiastic with his wand and accidentally poked the boy called Sirius in the eye, who promptly ran off screaming into the house.

The girl with long blonde curls, who was clearly the elder of the two sitting beneath the tree, glanced up to watch the exchange among the boys with an air of resigned weariness. She glanced at her auburn-haired companion and they rolled their eyes at each other in a universal expression of exasperation. Without uttering a sound, their look clearly said, "Boys!"

The littler girl was unable to resist the temptation to needle the boy guilty of the assault, however, and called out to him.

"Now you've done it, James," she said in very superior tones. "Mummy's gonna be really mad. You're gonna get it!"

The boy called James ran around the corner of the house to try and hide behind an enormous rose bush.

Ginny came out onto the porch, her hands on her hips and scanned the garden angrily.

"James Potter, where are you? I want a word with you young man! Lily, where's your brother?" she asked, spotting her daughter sitting sedately under the tree.

The green-eyed child silently pointed to the bush her twin was hiding behind. Ginny marched over to it and grabbed James by his arm, dragging him back to the others. The brown-eyed boy glared at his sister for tattling and stuck his tongue out at her behind his mother's back. She shrugged unconcernedly and returned to adjusting her doll's hat.

Remus Lupin came of the house just as Ginny returned with her son. Remus was carrying Sirius, who had stopped crying. This child had hair so dark as to be almost black—as did all three of the boys—but his eyes were a clear, light gray.

"Is there a problem, boys?" Remus said calmly, setting Sirius down to face his friends. He shyly moved to stand behind his father's leg.

"James, I want you to apologize for hurting Sirius, right now," said Ginny, sternly. Harry Potter came out of the door just behind her and draped an arm over her shoulders, frowning down at his son.

"I didn't mean to! It was an accident!" the boy wailed, but quickly relented under the furious gaze of his parents. "Fine. Sorry, Sirius."

Sirius peeked out from behind his father's leg—only now his eyes weren't gray, but red, with slits like a cat's for pupils. He stuck out his tongue at James, but his tongue was thin and flat, forked at the tip like a snake's.

"Sirius, that's enough!" Remus said, looking down and catching him at it. "That is not funny. To you it's a game, to many people, it is very frightening. I don't want to see you do that again."

"Brian Albus Snape, I trust you are not being rude to our guests?" a deep voice lashed through the small crowd like a whip. Harry and Ginny jumped guilty, involuntarily.

"Daddy!" Two voices cried out the appellation in unison. The nearest voice came from the third boy, who had been quietly observing the scolding of his friends. The second came from the blonde girl who had so far been silent throughout the exchange. She jumped up from where she was sitting to run to the porch just behind her brother.

"Is the baby here?" they cried in unison.

"Would I be down here if she was not?" he asked sardonically.

"She? It's a girl? When can we see her? When?" both children grabbed his arms and jumped up and down with excitement. Severus allowed himself an indulgent smile.

"Yes, you have a sister. Your mother will be down shortly, as soon as your grandfather says she may, and then you can see the baby." The indulgent smile vanished in an instant and his intense gaze focused on his son. "Now, answer my question—were you being rude to your guests?"

Glittering black eyes peered down into matching ones looking up, the smaller set trying and failing to raise a brow in imitation of his father.

"No, I wasn't. We were playing and Sirius got hurt. It was just an accident, he's okay. But Uncle Remus doesn't like him doing that thing with his eyes to look like Voldemort. Why not? It's cool. I wish I could do that!"

Severus looked up and met Remus' sheepish expression. The werewolf shrugged.

"I don't know why he can't mimic something nice, like the violet eyes of a unicorn or something. He's got to do the monsters. White eyes like a Thestral. Gold eyes like a werewolf—well, okay, I suppose I know why he likes to do that one. But Voldemort's eyes? Anyone from the Ministry sees him doing that and we'll have Magical Law Enforcement crawling all over our house," Remus said in exasperation.

"They are just children playing, Lupin, lighten up," Severus smirked. Their relationship had improved tremendously over the years, but Severus still did not fail to barb him over his irresponsibility in his youth at every opportunity. "If you name a child after the world's greatest prankster, you have to accept the consequences."

Remus laughed as he followed Severus inside, the children still hanging excitedly on his arms and the others trickling in after them.

"That's rich! Coming from a man who named HIS son after arguably the most manipulative schemer ever to grace the Wizarding World."

"Only partially. Besides, I happened to highly admire Albus' skill at subtle manipulations—when he wasn't using the talent on ME."

"Why thank you, Severus," said the man in question from the large portrait hanging on an apparently false 'door' in the middle of one wall in the sitting room.

"All is quiet at the school, Albus?" Severus asked the portrait, ignoring his comment.

"Yes, yes. Nothing to worry about. Her timing was impeccable, right after your last exam. You'll have the whole summer holiday with your new baby. You may be the Deputy Headmaster and Head of Slytherin House, my boy, but there are still some priorities that come before your obligations to the school.

"Girl, I hear? Congratulations! Have you chosen a name?"

"Sonja Aryssain Snape," said Rowena, happily as she made her way carefully down the stairs. John Lupin supported her with one arm, carrying his new baby granddaughter in the other.

It could safely be said no one in the room had ever seen Severus move faster as he shook his arms free from his clinging children and all but pushed his way unceremoniously through the small crowd to take the stairs two at a time to reach her.

"I instructed you to wait for me," he scolded.

"I'm fine, Severus, just tired," she said happily.

He would have picked her up and carried her, but that seemed too undignified with so much company. Instead he carefully put a strong arm around her waist, supporting her tightly against his side, and held onto her hand with his other, guiding her down the stairs as though she was made of glass.

Once she was settled in an overstuffed chair in the center of the room, John gave her the baby, still bright-eyed and alert from birth with thick black hair. Brian climbed onto her lap as well, wanting to see the baby closer, while Katrina sat on the arm of the chair to stare raptly at her new baby sister.

Severus stood against the rail of the stairs, his arms crossed lazily over his chest, and simply watched his family as all their friends took turns to gawk and fuss over the new arrival. No one who saw him standing there would have doubted he was the proud father, regardless of the physical distance he kept. Rowena glanced up at him often to smile radiantly.

Slowly but surely, the crowd trickled away to leave the young family alone. Rowena moved to the sofa so Severus could sit by her. She lovingly handed him his infant daughter. Katrina sat at his side nearest Sonja's head, stroking the downy soft hair. Rowena snuggled against him, under his free arm. Brian sat on her lap, almost asleep from the excitement of the day. He reached his hand out and let Sonja's tiny fist close around his chubby finger.

"She's a very pretty baby, isn't she, mummy?" he said, sleepily. Severus had to swallow hard at the echoes of his child-self and a different Sonja Snape.

"Beautiful," Rowena agreed happily.

"See daddy?" said Katrina looking up at him impishly with her bright blue eyes. "I told you. Love makes a family."

He gave a small chuckle even in spite of the overwhelming emotions swelling within him.

"Indeed, Engelchen. Indeed."

* * *

_Finis_


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